Cauchemar
by Yilena
Summary: When Marinette moves into a haunted apartment, she accidentally befriends the spirit that lives there. Through their years together, she decides to give him more than a tragic backstory. AU.


**AN:** Shout out to _EtoilesJaunes_ for picking this over another zombie story (without knowing what she was doing). This story has some bad themes that my usual ones don't. It's not that bad, honestly. The warnings are: character death, a non-healthy relationship, and suicide.

 _Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc_

The creaking was bad.

Marinette rolled over with a sigh, pushing her face further into her pillow in the hope that it would muffle the noise. Even though she'd known that the building was terrible, she'd braved the chipped paint and creaking stairs, choosing to squash her pride and move into the available apartment.

The carpet in the bedroom was stained with blood, but she was planning to scrub that when she had enough time off to do a good job of it. The owner had been kind enough to explain everything that had happened when they'd caught sight of her horrified expression, and she was reassured that no one had actually _died_ in the apartment.

They'd died being rushed to hospital instead.

Still, the stain and sudden death meant that the price was considerably lower, and since there'd been a problem with her application for a nearby university dorm—which she hadn't found out about until she'd travelled two hours with her belongings—she'd jumped on the first offer, regardless of whether it was good or not.

After spending two nights in a nearby bed and breakfast, she'd felt incredibly guilty about using her parents' money. They'd offered for her to come back home and try and apply for the following year instead, since it wasn't realistic for her to travel two hours each morning from their home, but she'd stubbornly insisted that she'd be fine.

After spending two weeks in it, she was starting to regret her decision. It was close enough to the university that she didn't have to spend her limited money on taking a bus, but her legs hurt from having to climb the stairs for so long each time. The creak whenever someone put their weight on them—regardless of which set—could be heard throughout what seemed to be the whole building, the hot water randomly cut out and caused her to shriek in surprise when it suddenly turned cold, and when the wind was strong, the windows rattled.

It really wasn't the room that she'd imagined having at the dorm.

Still, it was a one bedroom apartment with one bathroom and a kitchen that she didn't have to share with others. There were some plus sides, but when it was quiet at night, it was hard to remind herself of them.

She groaned.

The creaking continued. It sounded like it was either from the staircase nearest to her or the pipes, but she had no way of telling which.

"Please, stop," she said with a sigh, pulling the duvet over her head. "I'm already tired enough."

Of course, it didn't.

"I'm an idiot," she muttered.

When the morning came, the darkness underneath her eyes wasn't any better. She hadn't slept fully through the night since she'd moved in, and when she already had problems going to sleep on time, it was only making it worse for her.

She pulled her dark-coloured hair into a ponytail, hoping that it wouldn't be too annoying through the day. It was bad enough that it was tangled from how much she'd tossed and turned, but her alarm hadn't gone off—somehow—meaning she had to run onto campus and hope she made it in time for her classes.

Her parents were kind enough to promise to give her an allowance each month so she wouldn't have to work and only focus on her studies. And when she returned home, exhausted, she was more than thankful for that.

As soon as she sat down on the sofa and closed her eyes, she became aware of the creaks again.

"Oh, come on." She sighed, sagging against the uncomfortable cushions. "What did I ever do to deserve this?"

When she opened her fridge, she found that her milk had fallen over without the lid on, meaning the liquid was covering the bottom completely, flowing out onto her floor when she'd opened the door.

"I want to die," Marinette muttered, searching for tissues or something to mop it up. Cleaning had never been her speciality, but she'd had faith in herself not to make a huge mess—which was completely wrong, apparently. "This is the worst."

But it just kept getting worse.

Drinks that she kept in her fridge kept falling over, lids would be taken off the leftovers she stored away, and she once woke up to a burner on the hob left on (which she was _sure_ she'd turned off). The creaking didn't get any better—if anything, it got worse—and she could hear her neighbours stomping around in the middle of the night, aggravating her.

It was the worst month. Her classes weren't too difficult and she wasn't finding it hard to keep up with the workload, but it was her life at home that had her hating everything.

She almost screamed when an egg rolled off the countertop and fell on the floor at two in the morning.

"What the fuck," she muttered, angrily rubbing her hand over her face, trying to be more awake to clean up the mess.

It was like everything that could go wrong _did_.

When one of her friends that she'd made at university decided to invite her over to watch a few films, Marinette had jumped on the chance to sleep anywhere but at her place. She'd awkwardly laughed and said that the heating didn't work at her place, so it wasn't a good idea to go to hers. Thankfully, they hadn't put up much of a fight, and she happily shared their double bed with them for the evening.

She felt refreshed in the morning, even though they'd stayed up watching past midnight. She wasn't as sluggish as she usually was, which was a relief, and she was happy enough to pick up ingredients to actually try to cook that night.

Her apartment was just as cold and dark as it always was. She'd decided to give up on the carpet and put a spare sheet over it instead, hoping that she wouldn't trip over it, but she guessed that it could be passed off as a cheap rug that she was using to cover a stain.

No one needed to know what the stain was.

When she was chopping vegetables, she almost cut her finger when a loud sound echoed throughout the room. Puzzled, she placed the knife down and went to investigate, only to realise that the bathroom door had slammed shut.

Her windows weren't open, meaning there wasn't a breeze in the room.

"It's fine," she whispered, shaking her head.

It was completely normal for it to happen. She was just being paranoid because she wasn't used to living alone, especially not in such a poor condition. She was used to living in a comfortable home which was mostly spotless due to her parents cleaning up after themselves.

It was a strange experience collecting her laundry in the middle of the night when the noises got too much. With a tired yawn, Marinette sluggishly picked up everything, including the underwear that she'd kicked under the bed, and shuffled out of the door to venture out to the laundromat that was a few streets away.

Thankfully, it was open at all hours.

Marinette dozed off on the bench while her washing spun around, and it was only the alarm on her phone that woke her up in time. She repeated the process with the dryer, her eyes feeling heavy when she was woken up the second time, and she felt even worse than she did in the beginning as she climbed the stairs up to her apartment.

Too weak to hold it all in one hand, Marinette put her laundry bag down on the floor as she put her key into the door, opening it. And when she reached down to collect her bag again, she was startled by the door slamming shut a few centimetres from her face.

She was just relieved her hair hadn't gotten caught.

"Fucking wind," she cursed underneath her breath.

After leaving her bag in her bedroom, Marinette did a check, making sure all the windows were shut. They rattled when she pushed down on them, but they were secure enough and she couldn't feel a breeze when she put her hand in front of them.

She furrowed her brow, puzzled.

The only draft she could feel was from the small gap underneath her front door, but it wasn't too bad. It just meant that she had a blanket draped over the back of her sofa to use for whenever she was there on her laptop, as there wasn't a desk in her bedroom.

And when she thought it couldn't get any stranger, she woke up to a new noise one night.

She stared unseeingly at the ceiling up above, frustrated at the new sound that had appeared. Peace was hard to come by where she was living; whether it was the cars speeding outside, the crying child from the apartment next to hers, or the creaking stairs that never _stopped_ , she felt like she was going insane.

No wonder the last person had did what they had.

Marinette paused, stomach churning uncomfortably from the thought. That—that wasn't a nice thing to think, and she hated that she'd jumped to that so nonchalantly, barely considering the pain that the person must've put themselves through. It wasn't her place to judge them, not even when she stepped upon their bloodstain on a daily basis.

Blindly, she reached out for her phone that she'd put on the mattress beside her pillow. The sound was still going on, seeming to be on repeat, the rhythm never changing.

When she found the device, she put on the torch to illuminate her room without having to get out of bed and reach the switch.

Her breath caught in her throat.

The sound was something rattling—but not just anything. Marinette stared, lips silently parting as she watched the doorknobs on her wardrobe continue to wobble, the dreadful sound coming from every movement.

But it wasn't locked, that was her first thought. It was just—it was _closed_ , that was all. There was no reason for them to rattle. They weren't light enough for a breeze to do that, and with a panicked glance towards her window, she saw that the curtains were still.

There was no breeze.

And yet, the rattling continued. The sound seemed to echo in the room, ominous, and she was aware of every shaking breath that she took.

Her heart was beating violently against her chest, a cold sweat appearing on her skin as she stared at the impossible in front of her, but there was no sign of it stopping.

The doors were shaking from the force of the rattling, but it still made no sense. The doorknobs were only on the outside, and yet they were moving as though someone was trying to open the door—even though they could just be pulled open.

Either she was having a really vivid dream or she was losing her fucking mind.

The hand that was holding up her phone was shaking from her nerves. Surely, no one would've broken into her apartment and gotten into her closet just to fuck with her. They could've murdered her already while she was sleeping instead of making lots of noise.

She pushed her fringe away from her damp forehead.

"Can you—" Marinette paused, swallowing nervously. "Can you _not_?"

It wasn't as though she expected it to do anything. Since living alone, she'd taken to talking to herself more to fill the silence, to make it feel like someone else was there while she contemplated saving up and buying a pet. The only problem was that she didn't want to bring a pet into such a terrible environment, not when she could barely go to sleep at night as it was.

And to her utter surprise, she could visibly see when the noise stopped. The doorknobs cease to move, the doors didn't shake, and she stared with wide eyes for at least a minute to see whether the noise would pick up again.

"Thanks?" It came out sounding like a question. Clearing her throat, surely thinking that she was in some kind of strange dream, Marinette stuttered out, "I—thank you."

And with a disbelief laugh, she turned the light on her phone off, setting it down beside her pillow once more as she closed her eyes.

She almost felt alive in the morning.

Marinette sat up slowly, running a hand through her hair, wondering what was different. She was dazed, not quite awake yet, and it was only after she'd yawned and opened her bleary eyes that she noticed that one of the doors to her wardrobe was left open.

"Okay," she muttered, ignoring the spike of fear. It was irrational, she told herself, making sure to see the logic in the situation. It was clearly old, like the rest of the apartment, and she wasn't going to freak herself out for no reason.

She padded across the room, closing the door with one hand while she stretched her other arm out, a noise of appreciation leaving her from the feeling.

It was shaping up to be a good day, though. She'd slept more than usual, other than the ridiculous dream, and none of her drinks had fallen over in the fridge. Marinette actually smiled when she ate her breakfast, happy that she didn't need to get down on her knees on the cold tiles of the kitchen—she'd already gotten bruises from the amount of times she'd had to the past few weeks.

It wasn't often that she slept through her alarm, but she was glad that it wasn't that morning. It was the day that she had classes the earliest, and the professor was already displeased with her turning up halfway the previous week.

When she returned home, she immediately slumped down on the sofa, exhausted. For being so chipper in the morning, she'd ran around town with a friend afterwards, sipping at a caffeinated drink and too pleased with spending time with someone else to realise that she was going to be tired later on.

It was with a shiver that she woke up some hours later.

"I—what," Marinette slurred, sitting up abruptly, not realising that she'd fallen asleep. She was sluggish, not happy that she'd woken up, and it was with a frown that she realised that only one of her feet was cold.

When she pulled it back, the chill went as quickly as she'd noticed it.

"Okay," she said, blinking rapidly to try and wake herself up. "Weird."

Stretching her foot out again, she wasn't that surprised when the coldness wasn't there. It was cold all throughout the apartment—it was almost the middle of October, after all—but it had been colder there, just for a moment. Maybe she was just imagining it, her active imagination getting the better of her, but whichever reason she wanted to believe, she was fed up with herself.

"This place sucks," she muttered underneath her breath, standing up and stretching her arms out. "Maybe I should decorate it."

She bought a real rug to replace the sheet on her bedroom floor that weekend. It wasn't overly expensive, thankfully, and the light pink stood out in the grey-toned room. The whole apartment was either faded or neutral-coloured, making it seem quite depressing. She was just glad that the kitchen was in good condition, a lot better than the rest.

Her drinks started to fall over again two days later.

The creaking had never stopped—she suspected it would never, not when it was caused by people walking up the stairs, or even the pipes—and the crying child was back at it again (the parents assured her it was because they were teething, but Marinette had just groaned and accepted the answer).

However, a week later, she was abruptly woken up by a loud noise in her bedroom.

Marinette was startled, sitting up quickly with her fast-beating heart pounding in her chest, and she almost fell off of the bed from how surprised she was. She scrambled for her phone, heartbeat echoing in her head from her spiked fears, and the light revealed that the doorknobs on her wardrobe were rattling again.

"What?" she blurted, voice higher-pitched than usual due to the feeling of terror coursing through her.

It—she was so sure that it had been a dream, and yet, it was repeating again. The doors were shaking from the force that was used, the doorknobs rattling and the sound echoing through the room angrily, and all she could do was stare as it happened.

She was already cranky from having to stay up to finish a project, only for the child next door to scream when she'd gotten into bed.

It wasn't her best moment when she gave into her frustrations and exclaimed, "Are you fucking _serious_?"

The rattling stopped.

Rather than being terrified that the same thing had happened two times, regardless of whether it was actually a dream or not, Marinette shoved the duvet off of her, the phone still in her hand as she stomped across the room. She fucking _hoped_ that her neighbours could hear her, only so they could suffer the same that she had all those times they'd carelessly ran around in the evening.

The doorknob didn't need to be turned. She reached out for one, flinging the door open with enough force that it hit the wall audibly, maybe leaving a dent, but she was breathing heavily as she stared into the empty closet.

There was nothing but her clothing, of course.

She really didn't know what she expected.

"I'm going mad," she muttered, rubbing a hand harshly over her face before she padded back to the bed.

As she turned the light off and put one knee onto her bed, she really did fall off in surprise when a loud noise echoed through the room. The phone had fallen out of her hands when she'd ended up on the floor, and she scrambled to reach it, illuminating the screen with a curse when she saw that it was shattered.

It was still useable, though. She just had to be careful with the shards that could come off of it.

With the light turned back on, she gulped when she saw that the wardrobe door had closed.

A chill ran through her body at the implications But—but it couldn't be possible, not at all. The rattling and the movement had to be purely her imagination. It was just... Marinette was absolutely sure that she kept having a surreal dream that wouldn't stop repeating. Maybe, just maybe, that was why she was so exhausted in the morning.

When it became clear that nothing else was going to happen, Marinette climbed back into bed, wrapping the duvet over her head in a make-shift cocoon, as though the fabric would keep any of the terrors of the night away from her. Her heart was beating painfully in her chest, breaths coming fast from her nerves, and she squeezed her eyes shut, telling herself that if she opened them, something bad would happen.

She wasn't even the type to be scared of horror films.

In the morning, she was so sure that there wouldn't be any evidence that it was real. She'd started to convince herself that it was all her imagination, that her home surely couldn't be terrible _and_ cursed, but when she reached out to turn off her alarm, her fingers brushed against the shattered screen of her phone.

A wounded noise escaped her.

It—it could've fallen in the night. She tried to be rational, to think logically and not jump to a ridiculous conclusion, but her heartbeat increased when she went to her wardrobe to collect her clothing for the day.

She was tugging her socks on when she felt a breeze from behind her followed by a slam.

Startled, she turned around, one hand clutching at her heart from the shock as she stared at the wardrobe.

The door had closed again.

As much as she wanted to deny it, to say that it wasn't possible, she _knew_ that she'd left it wide open, intent on picking out a different shirt as it didn't match the skirt that she'd chosen.

Her eyes prickled, the tight and uncomfortable feeling at the back of her throat a tell-tale sign that she was about to burst into tears, and all she could do was pathetically fall down to sit on her floor, bringing her knees up to her chest.

Maybe it was the restless nights that were adding up to something negative. She could need to see a doctor to check that she was thinking straight, or even hope to buy some sleeping pill—something, _anything_.

She sobbed until her eyes felt raw and itchy. The frustrations with her apartment, the lack of friends that she'd made, and the annoying nights where she was kept up from all the noises were all coming out at that moment. She cried without caring that she could probably be heard through the thin walls.

She was just—she was so fed _up_.

"Why?" Marinette whispered to herself, voice cracking. She repeated the word, over and over, scrunching her eyes shut in an attempt to combat the never-ending flow of tears.

Even though she knew she was bound to be late for class, she couldn't make herself move. She wanted to be strong, to be independent, and able to make it by herself, but that wasn't the case at all. Instead, she was crying all alone in her bedroom because a breeze—because it couldn't be anything else—kept slamming her wardrobe door closed at the worst possible times.

"Leave me alone." She sniffed, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "I don't deserve this."

-x-

The rattling started again.

Marinette rolled over, holding her pillow over both of her ears.

It didn't block it out, sadly. If anything, it seemed like the sound grew louder, more aggressive, and with the bags already apparent underneath her eyes, her frustrations were running freely.

"Fuck _off_!" she all but screamed, irritated beyond belief. "Let me fucking sleep for once, you dick!"

And when it stopped, she was absolutely sure she was going mad.

Pulling the duvet over her head to act as a sense of security, Marinette pressed her head further into her pillow, trying to make it so she was covered at all sides. It was immature, she knew, but it made her feel safer to have all parts of herself hidden.

It was as she was about to fall asleep that the doorknobs started to move.

"Stop!" she exclaimed, sitting up and throwing her pillow across the room. It barely made a sound as it collided with the wardrobe door before falling onto the floor.

She was breathing heavily again, sure that her frustration was clear on her expression. Marinette sucked in a harsh breath, rubbing her face with her hands, pressing her palms into her eyes, the little bit of pain reminding her that she was awake. It wasn't a dream; if something broke, even if it was the screen of her phone, it would be there in the morning.

"Why?" she moaned, voice muffled by her hands. "I'm a good person."

The silence wasn't reassuring.

"I am," she insisted, lifting her hands up until her fingers were running through her hair, and she gripped the roots rightly. "If anyone deserves to get haunted, it's those fuckers that live above me."

When she bundled back up in her duvet, the sounds didn't start again. Marinette was able to get to sleep peacefully, barely disturbed by the noises from the staircase.

The door of her wardrobe didn't close itself in the morning. Marinette stared at it warily, as if _daring_ it to anything, but nothing happened.

She wondered whether she was being paranoid.

For the next few days, it seemed that the only sounds were natural ones. The only times she was woken up in the night was because of her neighbours, not something in her room, and none of her drinks were knocked over, thankfully. Marinette was able to happily cook dinner with music blasting one evening, not caring as the neighbour's baby cried and cried, instead turning the music higher as a response.

Maybe she wasn't such a good person.

"Still," she muttered. "I really don't deserve to be haunted."

It was possible that she was lulling herself into a false sense of security. The strange occurrences had happened since she'd moved into the apartment; going a week without them was not normal, no matter how much she wanted to believe it was.

So, when she returned home from classes, she didn't expect anything to be different.

She wandered into her bedroom after showering. Marinette threw the towel lazily on the frame at the end of the bed, her default place for it, and sleepily got into bed with the intention of setting her alarm for the following morning.

When she put her face onto her pillow, it wasn't softness that greeted her.

Marinette sat up in surprise, scrambling to for her phone to see what she'd touched, and when the light showed the fabric of her pillow, she stared in disbelief.

It was one of the post-it notes that she left on her fridge with reminders, except it wasn't her own writing.

Her stomach clenched at the sight.

' _sorry for the noise_.'

But other than her, no one else had been in her apartment since she'd moved in. There was—there was just no possible way that someone had come inside, let alone with the knowledge that she was frustrated with the noise. Her neighbours could hear her, yes, but they wouldn't just go into her home—

Her throat was growing uncomfortably dry.

It was so ridiculous, but Marinette couldn't help but blurt out, "Am I being fucking haunted?"

The sound of the doorknob rattling caused her to shriek. Marinette didn't need to use the light on her phone to know what it was the wardrobe—what else would it be at that point? It was only ever the wardrobe that made the noises, always when she was in the room and there to witness it.

She crumpled the post-it and threw it in the direction she knew the wardrobe to be. " _Stop_!"

And, somehow, the noise did.

She barely made it in time to vomit into her bathroom sink. Marinette gagged, the burning of her throat terribly uncomfortable, and she wasn't sure whether the tears in her eyes were from being sick or the general experience.

It really wasn't the life she'd expected for herself.

Rather than feeling sorry for herself, Marinette wiped her face with some tissue, aware that her mouth still felt dreadful from throwing up, and stomped back into her bedroom. She threw open the wardrobe, knowing how ridiculous she must've looked, but as the doorknobs hit the wall with more force than necessary, she felt validated.

"If there really is a fucking ghost here," she started, the pain of her throat causing her throat to crack, "why don't you do something else than ruin my sleep?"

But there wasn't a reaction.

She stood there in her pyjamas in the dark, standing in front of her open wardrobe as though it was some great enemy when really, she was just a eighteen-year-old in the darkness, pushing away her rationally and starting to believe in the worst things possible. Ghosts—ghosts weren't real, nothing supernatural was, and yet she wanted some kind of explanation for the constant noises that were terrorising her.

The morning didn't make her feel any better. There was another note, but rather than being on her pillow, it was stuck onto her bedroom door, meaning she saw it when she went to leave the room.

' _what should i do then?_ '

Maybe she was going mad and leaving notes for herself. It had happened to people before, hadn't it? There could've been a gas leak, anything, something that would make her forget what was happening—

And imagine being haunted.

She scrunched the note angrily into a ball, throwing it into the bin on the way past. Marinette stubbornly refused to look anywhere but where she was going, telling herself to focus on what she needed to do before giving into her emotions.

It didn't matter that her palms were clammy from nerves.

But there was another one when she came home. It was on her laptop that time, upon the coffee table in the living room.

' _don't ignore me or i'll start being loud again._ '

Her knees felt weak.

She could remember her morning clearly. There wasn't any time where she could've left it for herself, not at all. Marinette knew every moment she took as she angrily stomped onto campus, only just making it in time for her classes.

Her voice trembled as she asked, "What—what do you want?"

When Marinette heard a scratching sound behind her, she tensed.

The post-its were kept on her kitchen counter.

But that—that was the sound of the pencil that she'd left beside it. There was no mistaking where it was coming from, not when it was only a few steps behind her, and that had her heartbeat increasingly from panic.

That meant that she really wasn't alone in the apartment.

Could she still pass it off as an active imagination when the non-explainable was happening?

The sound stopped as abruptly as it happened. Marinette stared at the previous note, noticing the differences in her writing to the one she was looking at, and her stomach churned uncomfortably. Her vision was becoming blurry with every blink, her emotions switching without any notice, and she was seriously starting to question her sanity.

She just wanted to be a normal student.

It was too quiet.

Marinette sucked in a sudden breath, standing up on shaky legs, plucking up her courage to walk the few steps into her kitchen. The note—the note hadn't been delivered to her, not like the last times, and she was counting that moment as the last test to see whether she was really going insane or not.

There was writing on the top note.

' _do you want to entertain me?_ '

She swallowed.

"I—okay?" Marinette stuttered out, uncertain on what to say. "If... I mean, if it makes you leave me alone at night, I'm all for it. I'm really tired and I'm absolutely certain that I'm imagining all of this—"

The note was torn off, tossed to the side. And before she could really come to terms with that, to understand what was happening, she stared wide-eyed as the pencil was lifted off of the countertop, raised upright and _floating_ as it went towards the post-it—

Marinette bolted.

She barely remembered to pick her keys on the way past, running out of the front door and going down the creaking steps, aware of all the noise she was making. She ran until she was outside, the cold air greeting her and caressing her pale cheeks, making it known that she hadn't had time to put on a jacket.

The tears started to flow as soon as she could think coherently.

And as she cried, wiping her face on her sleeves, Marinette became aware that her feet were wet.

She hadn't remembered to put shoes on.

"Fuck," she said, hiccuping.

Choosing between getting sick outside and going back into her apartment to face whatever entity was able to pick up a fucking pencil and torment her, Marinette chose to stay outside for what she assumed to be an hour. Her phone had been left inside, her keys her only belonging with her, and it was only as it started to rain that she slowly made up way up the stairs.

Her eyes and nose were sore, her feet were fucking cold and socks were soaked through, and she felt like she was having a mental breakdown.

But—but it her _her_ home. She'd paid for that crappy place and she was damn well going to stay there. She'd kept her pride and agreed to stay instead of running back home, back to a home of comfort and family, and she wasn't going to change that just because a spirit of some fucking kind wanted to fuck with her.

Because if they'd wanted to hurt her, they would've done it already, wouldn't they?

It was adrenaline that made her slam her front door open. Of course, she couldn't see anyone inside, but she closed the door with more force than needed, marching towards the kitchen to see what the new note said.

' _you're amusing when you get worked up_.'

"Yeah?" she hissed, clenching her hands into fists. "How about you fuck off and find someone else to terrify?"

When the note was slowly torn off again, she tensed up. It was absolutely terrifying to see as it moved as though there was an invisible hand; the movements were all the same that she would've done, including the angle of the pencil as the lead was pressed against the paper, the ghost—entity, _whatever_ it was—starting to write.

' _i can't_.'

She bristled. "Why?"

Rather than tearing it off again, it wrote underneath the previous message. Seeing the pencil hover in mid-air was terrifying as it was, and when the lead touched the paper, she took a step back.

' _this is my home._ '

Maybe it was her disbelief that was making her reactions be what they were. Against her better judgement, Marinette snapped, "You're not the one paying rent."

There was enough room for one more message.

' _i'm the one that can make your life hell_.'

Was it—was it _threatening_ her? She'd already jumped to the conclusion that it wasn't looking to hurt her; rather, it seemed to want to be a nuisance, causing as much trouble as it could.

"Why?" she found herself asking.

She didn't flinch when another post-it was torn off.

' _why what?_ '

The writing wasn't messy. It had a steady hand, the letters almost cursive, but it was all in lowercase. It was a lot better than her own writing, actually, and that was a weird thought to think.

"Why would you even want to—to make my life bad?" Marinette rambled, the bravado fading away as she started to become aware of all her nerves once more. The hands that had once been clenched into fists instead fiddled with the end of her sleeves. "What do you get out of it?"

It had started to write smaller.

' _amusement_.'

She didn't know whether to be scared of that answer. With her heart beating madly, she considered her options—she'd already swore and shouted at the entity, but it hadn't done anything to her, not directly.

But it had been annoying.

She snorted. "And you get that from slamming doors?"

' _are you laughing at me?_ '

Was she? "Maybe," she answered, eyes following the pencil was it twirled around on the spot, suspended mid-air, as though someone was fiddling with it. "It just doesn't seem like a good hobby, that's all. Surely, there's something better that you could do."

' _no one's ever laughed at me before._ '

That—Marinette took in a deep breath, trying to keep herself calm. That meant that she wasn't the first person to experience the invisible spirit, didn't it?

When she was nervous, she tended to blurt out the first thing that came to mind. And at that moment, the loud pulse that could be heard in her head was surely the cause of her bluntly replying, "You are kind of a dick."

The pencil stopped moving.

Marinette stiffened, taking another step back, raising a hand to cover her mouth. She—she just _had_ to insult it again, even though they were being somewhat friendly. It was actually taking the time to speak with her, rather than rattling her wardrobe, for once.

A sigh of relief left her when the pencil was placed against the paper again.

' _that's the second time you've called me that._ '

Well, it hadn't killed her yet, had it?

"Really?" she blurted. "I would've thought you'd been called that loads of times before. It's kind of fitting for you."

' _what does it mean?_ '

Of all the things it could've asked, she really wasn't expecting that. Instead of being horrified on what words she'd said, Marinette covered her mouth when she started laughing, incredulous at the turn of events.

Her socks were still wet, her eyes continued to hurt a little bit, and she felt ever-so-close to having a panic attack from questioning her sanity. But she—she had proof that it wasn't all in her head. She wasn't good at changing her handwriting, and she definitely wouldn't have been able to accomplish the pretty loops that some of the letters had.

And then, she continued to laugh because she was complimenting it.

"It's—it's an insult," she choked out, dropping down to her knees as her laughter continued to flow. Her hands were still covering her face as it started to sound a tad hysterical. "It means you're being mean."

She was talking to thin _air_.

"I'm going mad," she whispered, laughter spilling out. Running her hands through her hair as her body shook, she gripped onto the roots tightly, the pain not doing anything to ground herself. Instead, it just made it all worse; the ridiculousness of the situation was getting to her, along with her panicking body that just wouldn't calm down. "I—I'm going so _mad_."

Then, to make matters worse, a chill ran through her as she felt a rush of coldness concentrated on one part of her body—her cheek.

She recoiled away, falling onto her backside as she stared in front of her.

The pencil was on the countertop, no longer being held up by an invisible force.

Breathing heavily, sure that her face was terribly pale, Marinette croaked, "Did you just touch me?"

The answer she got was in the form of the pencil being lifted up once more. She scrambled to her feet, trying to calm down a little, but all she could really do was blink rapidly and try and clear her vision instead.

' _that's not the first time i've touched you._ '

The laughter that left her definitely sounded hysterical that time. "Try and sound less creepy, please."

-x-

She was absolutely sure she was going mad.

The following day when she'd woken up and seen the notes, Mariette had managed to sleep through most of the night. She ran away to her classes, only making a detour on her way home to buy a whiteboard and pens, deciding that even if she was just imagining it, it would be handy in the future.

It was ridiculous how she stood staring at her front room, keys held in her clenched hand. Her hand was beating nervously, wondering whether she'd really be greeted by an invisible entity on the other side. They'd spoken for a while longer the previous night, before she yawned until her eyes had tears in the corners, and she'd asked whether talking to it would be a good enough deal to let her sleep through the night.

And from how she'd slept, it seemed to agree with her.

She opened the door slowly, eyes darting around to see whether anything had changed. The post-its were still on the side, no more added to the little pile that was on the countertop, and the pencil was resting, no hovering mid-air.

"Hello?" Marinette called, face colouring from embarrassment as she walked inside. "You are here, right? You could just, well, pick up the pencil to show me that you are. You don't actually have to write anything."

And within a few seconds, the pencil did start to move. It was lifted a few centimetres off of the countertop, the response clear.

She let out the deep breath she'd taken in. "Okay."

Her hands were shaking as she sat down on the couch, opening her bag and starting to take off the plastic from the whiteboard. It wasn't that big, but she hoped that it good enough for what she had in mind; saving her post-its and trying to make the spirit less aggressive than it had been before.

"I got you this," she announced, voice higher-pitched due to her nerves. Setting the whiteboard down on the couch beside her, Marinette retrieved the pen from within her bag. "So—so you can talk to me, like we discussed."

She really didn't know where to look while addressing it. She had no idea which direction it was, and staring at the whiteboard seemed too weird, so she settled with looking down at her lap as she fiddled with her sleeves, heart pounding in her chest.

Surprisingly, she didn't jump as the whiteboard was lifted up in the air. It was roughly the same height as where it would be if she was the one holding it, so she was really starting to assume that it was human-shaped, at least, and even that thought was absolutely absurd.

A bubble of laughter escaped her.

The pen was lifted up, too, the cap being put on the end so it didn't have to put it aside. For something so otherworldly, it had a human-like reaction, even though she would've favoured putting the lid in her mouth if she was only writing one message. Then again, it had asked for amusement, so that probably warranted more than one.

' _where did you go?_ '

That really wasn't what she expected.

"Classes?" It came out sounding like a question. "I-I go to university during the day, so that's where I always am if I leave. Well, if my friends don't invite me out, but that's not very often."

The writing was rubbed off in seconds, as it would be if she'd wiped her fingertips against it.

' _it's boring when you're not here. i don't have anything to do_.'

It seemed friendlier that day, at least.

"You don't really do much with me here," she pointed out.

' _i watch you_.'

"That's—" Marinette choked out, caught off-guard. "That's not really something people admit to. But you're not really a person, are you? I mean, you _could_ be. I have no idea about you. Oh, fuck—I'm not trying to insult you or anything, okay? I just... I babble when I'm nervous—"

The wiped off writing seemed like a good enough sign for her to be quiet. Marinette pulled her knees up to her chest, leaning her back against the uncomfortable sofa as she realised that from the angle that it was writing from, it should've been sitting down on the sofa beside her.

But there wasn't any sign that there was any weight there.

' _no one's talked to me like you before._ '

"Oh." She didn't know what to say to that. "And you said no one's laughed either, right?"

' _not until you_.'

It—it almost sounded lonely. Sure, tone wasn't easy to get across when it could only communicate through notes, but it hadn't caused her any actual harm, had it? Rather, it seemed to just want to see how she'd react to situations, to gain some amusement from that.

The words tumbled out before she could think of a better way to phrase them. "What—what are you?"

The pen hovered for a moment, as though it was considering the answer.

' _i am here._ '

She rested her chin on top of her knees, turning her head to look towards the whiteboard, rather than looking away every time. "Do you have a name?"

' _do you?_ '

"Me?" She laughed. "I—of course. My name's Marinette."

The words were wiped away within moments.

' _were you never taught that your name is sacred?_ '

"Maybe?" she replied, perplexed. "I'm not really sure what you mean with that. It's not like I told you my full name or anything, dude."

' _dude?_ '

It really wasn't up-to-date with slang.

"It's a—just something people call each other instead of their names, I guess. It's normally for friends, but it can be a placeholder for anyone, if you're feeling rude. What is your name?" she asked, pulling her knees in closer to be comfortable. "If you have one at all."

' _adrien._ '

It was past the point of it being her imagination. "Are you—I mean, do you have a gender?"

' _i am male_.'

And with that, she only had a little bit of trouble referring to him as Adrien in her head and getting the pronouns right. As insane as it was, Marinette spent the rest of the evening talking to him, the whiteboard floating beside her. Eventually, when she felt that questions were getting too boring and she didn't want to aggravate him, she asked whether he wanted to watch anything specific on her laptop.

Adrien didn't know how to use the laptop himself.

Marinette had asked what he did with his day while she was away, and he'd simply replied that he _existed_. When she was given answers such as those, the phrasing so weird and strange, she didn't pry any further.

But it seemed that spending time with him, actually talking to him, appeased him. When her eyes started to grow heavy, she retreated into her bedroom, a bit nervous that she didn't know whether he was following or not.

Adrien didn't make noise, not unless he wanted to. He could interact with a lot of things—like the fucking wardrobe for all that time—but it was the reminder of the whiteboard that made her aware that she wasn't alone in the mornings. She didn't know whether he was in the room, waiting for her to talk, or sat in the living room with the whiteboard, having written a message as soon as she'd woken up.

It was all unknown. Although she didn't feel entirely comfortable with him, not when those first few days was spent with her heart stuttering nervously with every message that he wrote out, it was nice that he wasn't tormenting her.

But she kept wondering whether it would last.

"Can't you leave?" Marinette questioned as she was making her dinner.

The whiteboard was hovering beside her, meaning he was standing just to her side. It moved a little sometimes, as though he was pacing in a small area, but from the general picture she was able to build in her mind, it seemed that he was taller than her.

It wasn't like she could actually see him, though.

' _no_.'

There wasn't anything added onto that.

It was still hard to tell his tone. Marinette had no idea what to think—he had emotions, didn't he? He'd started haunting for when she'd moved in for amusement, and even though she couldn't see why that would be fun at all, it had to be something to pass the time.

Along with not understanding slang or her laptop, Adrien seemed out of touch with a lot of other things. He couldn't leave the actual apartment, no further than the front door, and all he'd learned had been from the others that had lived there before.

It was with a start that she remembered the bloodstain in the bedroom.

"Did—" Marinette stuttered, cutting herself off and closing her eyes so she wouldn't see his reply straight away. "Did you have anything to do with their death?"

The seconds passed and she continued to only see the darkness of her eyelids. Adrien seemed harmless to her, yes, but she'd pushed aside the reason why it had been so cheap in the first place—

A sudden touch of coldness appeared on the back of her hand, and she recoiled in surprised, holding her hand up to her chest as her back connected with the uncomfortable cushions on the sofa.

"I-I'm sorry," she choked out, breathing quickly. "I... I wasn't expecting you to do that."

There was a few seconds where she could only stare at the back of the whiteboard. It had been tilted away so she couldn't see it, something that he'd never done before. Adrien preferred to have it hover beside her, within reach, even though she'd never actually gone to take it off of him before.

"I'm sorry," Marinette repeated, calming down a little. "You just—you surprised me, that's all. Your temperature's very different to mine."

When the whiteboard was turned around, the contents wasn't what she wanted to see.

' _does it feel bad?_ '

She blinked. "No? I wasn't expecting it, that's why I was so shocked."

It was wiped away quickly.

' _you're the first not to scream._ '

Her stomach clenched uncomfortably. That—how was she supposed to take _that_? If she didn't get the tone right, then the message was completely different, but the Adrien she was starting to know was kind of clueless, not at all threatening. She really wanted to believe that he wouldn't do anything bad, but he had tormented her in the beginning.

It wasn't as though she actually knew him.

They'd been together for almost two months, but within that time, he'd sought to make her cry for the majority of it.

"You're not scary," she said softly, tasting the lie on her lips. "Not any more."

The pen stayed still for at least ten seconds.

' _i did not kill her._ '

The last one to live in the apartment had been a girl, then. The details had been glossed over so quickly that she hadn't caught onto that, and she hadn't wanted to research into it, not when it wasn't her business in the first place. Her blood might've been on her carpet, but Marinette wasn't entitled to know anything about them.

"Did you..." Marinette paused, frowning. "Did you torment her, too?"

She was scared of the answer.

' _i had fun._ '

Marinette didn't push him any further.

-x-

She was starting to get used to his personality.

Adrien did have emotions—she confirmed that when he said he was happy to see her one day—and he grew restless when he was left alone in the apartment. Each morning, she gave him a rough time when she would return, and if she planned to do anything with friends, she made sure to go home first, just to tell him.

He didn't do anything but talk to her.

Well, that wasn't right. He was slowly learning to use her laptop while she was asleep, which was good. It had terrified her when she'd walked into the living room to see her earphones floating mid-air, but he'd been considerate enough to wear them, rather than waking her up. And she learned the only reason he'd done that was because he'd seen her do it before—

So he was learning from her. Marinette felt like a teacher sometimes, whether it was slang, technology, or explaining the situation on a news article that he saw, she tried her best.

It was like having an invisible child at times.

She really didn't know what to think about him. The Adrien that she was starting to know, the one that asked her what she meant at least twice a day, didn't seem like the same one that had terrified her with her wardrobe, but she knew that it was. He was amused for the time being, happy that she was spending time with him, but she was still worried that it would suddenly switch.

The creaking stairs and pipes woke her up at times, and she sleepily called out his name only to receive no answer. When it became clear that he wasn't the cause of the sound, she pushed her head further into her pillow, going back to sleep, but there was still that nagging feeling that it could change at any moment.

So, she decided to confront him.

"Adrien?" she called as she walked out of the bathroom, her pyjamas sticking to her a bit from where she hadn't dried herself properly. "I can ask you something, right?"

It wasn't a surprise to see the whiteboard floating a few seconds later. Whether he'd been sat there beside it or not, she didn't know, but she was starting to come to terms with that.

' _what do you want to know?_ '

She wetted her lips.

"You're not going to go back to haunting me, are you?"

The pen didn't hesitate.

' _i'm doing that now, am i not?_ '

She'd started to take comments like that as a joke. It was easier to choose what to see his personality as, rather than letting everything come across aggressive—Adrien was pretty calm, actually, when he wasn't causing her to burst into tears.

"Not really," she denied with a laugh. "You're my friend right now. I'm asking if you're—you're ever going to go back to keeping me up at night."

Of all the answers she expected to that, she hadn't predicted that he'd ask a question back.

' _friend?_ '

"Yes?" she answered, sitting down beside him on the sofa, trying to guess what the polite distance was. As there wasn't a chill on her body, she assumed that they weren't touching. "We're friends, aren't we?"

She watched as the words were wiped away to make more room.

' _i've never had a friend before_.'

It was answers like that that made her feel like he was just a child—but that wasn't right, not at all.

"You're my friend," she insisted, tucking her legs underneath herself to get comfortable. "And the first rule of friendship is not to terrorise each other."

And the following reply that she got only cemented the thought that he was innocent.

' _friendship has rules?_ '

She started laughing with him a lot more.

Adrien began to understand her sense of humour. At first, he'd asked why certain things made her laugh at all, particularly his comments or when they were watching something together, and she had to awkwardly try and explain the concept of a sense of humour to him. And when she pointed out that she took certain sentences from him as joking or sarcastic, she was delighted when he confirmed that she was right.

For being an invisible spirit that liked to cause mischief—and _not_ murder, definitely not—he really seemed human at times. Marinette was convinced that he'd died decades before technology had become what it was, as that would explain his understanding of slang and the outside world. He'd only learned little titbits from the previous ones that had lived in the apartment, but all of them had left without actually trying to befriend him.

Since the requirement for befriending seemed to be calling him a dick, apparently.

Marinette really didn't know how to feel about that.

When she came home from her classes, he wrote faster than usual. The loops of his cursive writing were sometimes out of place from his excitement, and the smile was appeared on her face was absolutely genuine.

She was starting to grow fond of him after a few weeks.

It was nice not living alone. He was like a pet that couldn't do much for himself, except he didn't have to eat or drink, sleep, and mostly stayed put in her living room (at least, she _hoped_ he did—he never really answered whether he watched her sleep or not, but she assumed that would be too weird for him).

' _i do not understand_.'

The best thing, she found out, was watching anything supernatural-related with him.

"Me neither," she said with a sigh, hugging a pillow to her chest. "But it does seem pretty dumb, doesn't it?"

Whenever she had to work on a project, she helped Adrien put something on to watch. She'd suggested that she could buy some books, even teach him to play a game, but he just said that he preferred watching, rather than interacting.

She didn't know that much about him. Adrien was private, hadn't told her anything of what he was, but she was certain about one thing; he didn't know much about himself. He knew that his name was Adrien, that much was clear, but he couldn't tell her anything about his previous life. He said that he didn't know, and his emotions were clear when his answers started to come delayed after that.

It was just hard to pick up on his moods when he was invisible.

She told him all about her day when she came home, then continued on to ask what he'd done, though it was never that interesting. He sometimes told her about the arguments that could be heard through the thin walls, but they didn't happen that often.

When she wondered how long he'd been stuck in the apartment, she felt sad. The building was old, that much was clear from the poor condition that it was in, and he must've seen countless people come and go, surely some from his interactions with them.

That was one thing she'd ealised quickly—he didn't seem to have a sense of what was right or wrong. It baffled her at first, but when it was paired with his amnesia, she supposed that it made sense.

Still, she tried to explain the character's actions in films when he questioned them. He didn't understand love the most, which was worrying, and he definitely didn't understand anyone sacrificing themselves for another, even if it was a stranger on the street.

"It's just—it's what people do," she tried to explain, running a hand through her hair. "They'd do the same for animals, too. Well, it's usually only if they're nice looking since people are pretty vain."

Trying to get him to understand about pets was a lot easier when she opened a new tab on her browser on her laptop. They spent a few hours looking at video, where Marinette made appreciative noises and moaned that she really wished that she had her own.

' _why?_ '

"Why?" she parroted, turning her head to look in where she assumed he was. It had been awkward at first, but she started to gaze a little bit above where the whiteboard was, using her own height as a reference before adding some more onto it. "Why do I want a pet?"

Adrien's writing was as pretty as ever.

' _why would you want that?_ '

"I—" Marinette paused, furrowing her brow. "It's... I don't know how to explain it? But I've always seen my friends with pets, and they're so happy with them. I've never had that."

It wasn't a good enough answer, she was well aware of that.

' _what do you get out of it?_ '

It was tricky trying to explain it to him. "Happiness?" she tried, gesturing towards the video on the screen. "Just watching them makes me happy, so—so when I think about when looking at me and thinking I'm their whole world, I'd want to do anything for them, to see them just as happy as me."

It still wouldn't be fair to let a pet into her apartment, she was sure of that. The rug in her bedroom covered the bloodstain, but the weather was cold as it was without the heating, and it would only get worse as it turned into winter. Marinette had taken to bundling up in her largest jacket as soon as she got home, lifting the sleeves up to her cold cheeks to try and warm them up.

' _me._ '

"What?"

The answer was expanded upon.

' _you described me_.'

A startled laugh escaped her. "No, no," she replied, shaking her head. "Adrien, you're not a pet. You're—you're practically human."

The writing was rubbed out quickly.

' _do i not make you happy?_ '

"You do." And it wasn't a lie. She'd definitely started to find him endearing, especially the way his writing was sloppy when she first came home, evident from how happy he was to see her. "You really do, but you're... I'll never be able to think of you as a pet. You're a friend, Adrien."

She really never thought she'd have that conversation with a ghost.

' _you're my only friend_.'

And if that didn't tug on her heartstrings, the way he'd paused before writing friend at the end did.

Adrien asked her about different animals after that, trying to see which one he preferred. It became clear that he liked cats the most within a few days, especially as he always picked out their videos, particularly the ones which had kittens on the thumbnail.

Sometimes, she had to wonder whether she would've ran back home if she hadn't befriended him. Adrien was more than happy with their arrangement, but she still felt sad when she realised how limited he was. He couldn't eat, couldn't even leave through the front door or any of the windows, and he was stuck there for what she assumed to be eternity.

He didn't know how he could disappear.

When she'd asked whether he'd want to cease to exist, his answer had caused her to blink rapidly to try and get rid of her building tears.

' _why would i leave when you're here?_ '

There was a little bit of truth to his words about him being a pet. Although she couldn't _see_ him looking at her, she was his main entertainment, his only person to interact with (he'd refused to chat to strangers online, finding that idea far too baffling and new to him), and that made her want to pull him into a hug more than anything.

But that was ridiculous, wasn't it?

"You're... I feel cold when you touch me," Marinette mused, tilting her head to the side to face where he roughly would be. "But can I—is it possible to actually touch you?"

The whiteboard moved slightly to the side as he'd started to write. He was onto his third pen, red that time.

' _if you can find me._ '

That was strange to think. Whenever she'd felt the coldness, those brief movements, she'd jerked away in shock from having not expected it. But if—if it was possible to touch him, wouldn't he want some kind of interaction? She already knew that he was capable of interacting with objects around him, even opening the fridge and knocking over her drinks, but that hadn't happened in months, thankfully.

She asked softly, "Do you want me to?"

He didn't erase the last message.

' _why?_ '

"Why?" Marinette questioned, curious.

' _why do you ask that?_ '

"Oh." She was hit with the realisation. "Because it's—I was taught that it's rude to touch someone without their permission? Even if it's just for a hug, it's rude to force that upon anyone—especially if the touch is intimate. That needs consent on both sides."

For a moment, she considered making a list of all the things that she'd have to tell him. Surely, etiquette had changed since he'd died, meaning he was behind on everything. Marinette was just pleased that he hadn't made any offensive comments in their time together; he was just childishly oblivious to most things.

' _is that why you flinched?_ '

It took her a while to realise that he meant those few times when he'd touched her.

"Partly," she admitted. "But also because I didn't actually know it was you, and it was cold. A bit of warning and you can touch me; like if I'm ignoring you, you can touch my hand for a moment or something."

As he liked that idea, it was introduced into their household immediately.

-x-

The first problem came up when it was time for winter break.

The plan had always been to go back to her parents', to bask in the warm house for as long as possible, maybe see some of the friends that she hadn't seen for a while, and enjoy herself where it was safe and comfortable, somewhere familiar.

But that meant leaving Adrien alone in the cold building with creaking stairs and pipes as his only company.

It caused her stomach to churn from guilt, but she—she couldn't go back on her promise, not when her parents were so excited to see her again. She'd already booked the tickets to reserve a seat on her choice of transportation months before, ready in advance so she knew she didn't have to budget to afford it at the last minute.

"Adrien?" she called, getting off of her bed and padding into the kitchen.

The whiteboard started hovering almost a minute later. She wasn't sure where he'd been, but he was slow on his reply.

' _why do you sound different?_ '

"Because I'm nervous." She swallowed. "I have to talk to you about something."

And when the pen didn't move, she assumed that was a sign to continue.

"I'm going home today."

' _this is home_.'

She should've expected that answer, really. Maybe Adrien hadn't overheard her conversations with her parents where she was always smiling with the reminder that she would be leaving—maybe, just maybe, she should've brought the subject up beforehand to make sure that everything would be okay.

It just hadn't occurred to her that she wouldn't want to leave him.

She wetted her lips.

Gingerly sitting down on the couch, she started to explain, "Not here. I mean at home with my parents—where I grew up."

The nib of the pen connected with the whiteboard, but nothing more than a dot appeared.

"It won't be long," Marinette assured him. "A couple of weeks, I promise. I'm not leaving you forever, I'm just... I have to go home and see them. It's been arranged since the beginning."

As the seconds passed, it became clear that there wouldn't be any written answers for her to read. The cap was put back onto the lid, the whiteboard and pen discarded on the arm of the sofa, leaving her oblivious to where he would be.

Adrien had never refused to talk to her before.

Nervously, she packed away her clothing, making sure to collect everything she needed. She tried to voice everything she was doing aloud, reassuring him that she wouldn't be gone too long, but there was no answer of any kind; no slamming doors, no hovering whiteboard, and definitely no cold touches to her skin.

By the time she had to leave to make sure she arrived on time, there was still no reply.

"Adrien," she called out, eyes darting around the living room, trying to see whether any of her possessions were moving to indicate where he was. "Come on, talk to me. We're friends, aren't we?"

There was no answer.

It wasn't a sign that he was reverting to his old ways. It had been _months_ since they'd done that; they were friends, they were close—she was _fond_ of him, and she really believed that the feeling was somewhat mutual. Adrien always said that she was amusing, especially when her reactions were different to the other people that he had met.

"Please," she whispered, hands fiddling nervously with her sleeves. "I-I really don't want to leave on bad terms with you."

And yet, there was no reply.

Aware of the nervous fluttering of her heart, Marinette slipped her backpack on, crossing the room to open the front door. With one last look into the quiet apartment to see whether he'd started to write again—only to be disappointed—Marinette's frown deepened.

But the door slammed before she could walk out of it.

She gaped. " _Adrien_."

It was natural for her to be shocked. He hadn't done that since before they were friends, and it wasn't anything that she'd expected from him. Unfortunately, when she went to open it again, she barely managed an inch before it was slammed shut more once.

Turning around, Marinette stared pointedly at the whiteboard. "If you have something to say, fucking write it out. Stop acting like a child."

He didn't.

Marinette tried two more times, managing to open the door a little bit more before Adrien shut it with more force than necessary. The sound was echoing in the quiet room, surely heard down the hall, and she was growing frustrated with the thought of wasting all that money on tickets, only to miss it entirely.

"Talk to me," she pleaded with a sigh. "I don't—I can't understand you when you're like this."

There was still no reply.

With a sigh of frustration, she ran a hand through her hair. "I'm not leaving forever, I promise. You'd know if I was planning to move out or something."

The whiteboard was still unused.

"Haven't you heard me talking about this?" Marinette questioned, staring at the open space of the living room, choosing to focus on the sofa rather than anywhere else. "It's not like you don't creep on my conversations. You've asked about them enough."

But he'd still be alone in the apartment for weeks with no one to talk to. Marinette didn't have a solution to that, not one that she could think of out of the blue. She couldn't leave her phone or laptop behind, not when she needed them, and there wasn't any other way for him to contact her.

"I have to go," she announced, shifting the weight on her feet. "If I don't, I won't be allowed to stay here—I can't afford this without my parents."

And even though there was no form of reply, she hoped that he was listening to her. As her bedroom door hadn't opened again, she had to assume that meant he was still in the room with her (she couldn't _believe_ she hadn't asked whether he had to use doorways as everyone else, or if his state allowed him some supernatural perks).

There was a lot she had yet to ask him.

"I promised to help them over the break in exchange for them letting me stay here," Marinette patiently explained. "So, you need to let me out of that door if you want me to continue living here."

The atmosphere felt almost stifling. There was no cold touch to indicate that he was touching her at all, no movement that indicated he was interacting with any furniture, but he had to be there.

It seemed like minutes passed until he finally did something. The front door slowly opened, the hinges creaking from the speed, and she was absolutely sure that the smile that appeared on her face fully showed her happiness at that moment.

More than anything, she felt proud that he'd reluctantly listened to her—that she'd actually gotten through to him with her words.

She voice quivered with emotions as she said, "Thank you."

It was a lonely few weeks. Well, not really; she saw her parents constantly, helping them out with anything they needed, and she met up with old friends when she wasn't required for the day, but it was different than what she'd become used to.

She didn't quite realise how her lifestyle had became until the third morning or so, when she'd wandered out for the bathroom and sleepily told Adrien that she'd be out in a minute.

There was a lump stuck in her throat as she wondered whether he was leaving her notes or not.

For someone that had such a negative impact on her life in the beginning, it had certainly changed. She spoke to him more than anyone else, even the class-mate that she was closest to and considered a friend. She enjoyed excitedly telling him about her day, the way she had to think carefully about how to answer his questions when he didn't understand something, and despite him not being able to speak, she'd started to consider him good company after her hands had stopped getting clammy in his presence.

The amount his personality had grown in the past few months was impressive, too.

There wasn't much that she could do for him, but she bought a book that described the meaning of some slang words, a calender that she could hang up in the living room and write down when she would be leaving and returning for the future.

When she returned, she stood out the front door with her belongings on the floor, unsure whether her arrival would be appreciated or not. There was some part of her that worried that he could've repressed into his old personality—the one that lived to cause her torment—but that was only a little bit, one that she immediately felt guilty about thinking at all.

She pushed the door opened slowly, calling out, "Adrien?"

It was dark.

Marinette walked inside after taking a deep breath, putting her belongings down beside her before turning on the lights.

There wasn't anything out of place. She'd expected maybe a few objects to be knocked over, maybe the fridge left open to spite her, but everything seemed to be the same. There was still that small trickle of guilt from thinking the worst of him, but she couldn't really be blamed for that, not after their past.

"Adrien?" she called again, louder, and moved to open the door to her bedroom.

There was a lump in her bed.

The lights revealed the shape underneath the duvet, the one where nothing was sticking out and actually visible to her, so it was with a curious tone that she asked, "Adrien?"

It shifted.

Her chest felt warm from that. He'd never done that before, not from what she knew. Marinette barely ever made her bed, however, so it was possible that he'd climbed inside whenever she'd left for classes without her knowing. But after getting to know him, to start considering him as a clueless child that needed to be taught about the world, she wasn't too shocked to realise that she found it endearing.

"I'm back," she announced softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed, barely a few centimetres away from where the lump started. "Are you going to stop hiding soon?"

She'd never thought about asking him to put a sheet over himself or something. It seemed silly to actually consider it as it was usually featured in films, and it was sure to be a inconvenience for him, but that was the first time she was actually able to see the full shape of him. He wasn't small, like she'd predicted from how he held the whiteboard, but she wanted to know more.

Adrien had never been able to tell her more.

There was a lot that she didn't know about him. About whether he could walk through walls, or what his limits of his ability to interact with his surroundings was—all the things she should've been pushing to ask him after months of living together, but she didn't want to be too pushy. Adrien didn't like answering questions for too long until he came across as agitated in his answers, preferring to be the one to enquire about things to her.

"I missed you." It wasn't a lie at all. "But I don't have to leave for days on end until the summer now—that's _so_ many months. I promise to make it more obvious for you in the future, too."

And as he shifted again, Marinette stretched out beside him, head resting just below her pillows as she turned on her side, facing where the duvet was raised with a smile on her face.

It really was nice to see him again.

With a happy laugh, Marinette asked, "You're not going to start haunting me again if I hug you right now, are you?"

Rather than the lack of answer that she was expecting, he moved again, adjusting the duvet that was wrapped around her head.

She really wondered how it worked in the first place.

Marinetet didn't wait until she scooted closer to him, throwing an arm over his suddenly still form, pleasantly surprised that she was able to feel him through it, rather than having her arm push the duvet back down into the mattress, as though nothing was there. She remembered that Adrien had said that she could touch him, but it hadn't really clicked until that second that it was possible, not when she hadn't been able to see him.

It was an awkward hug, but she made it work.

"I'm sorry for leaving," she mumbled, words a bit muffled from where her face was squished into the duvet so she could have both arms awkwardly wrapped around him. She wasn't even sure which part of his body she was holding onto, but it didn't matter. "I promise I'll make it up to you."

She didn't move for ten minutes.

-x-

After learning that she could touch Adrien, she didn't try it again when he'd climbed out of the duvet. He went back to talking to her on the whiteboard, adamantly avoiding asking about her time away, and she tried to hide the smile she had from thinking that he was kind of cute when he was sulking.

The calender was placed in the living room and she wasted no time in writing down when her classes ended for each day. She wasn't sure whether he appreciated that or not until she noticed that he was crossing off each day as it passed.

It was a few days later that he wrote something that had her a bit stumped.

' _aren't you supposed to ask before touching?_ '

He'd remembered what she'd taught him.

"You're right," she agreed, impressed that he'd remembered it at all. "But I—it's not an excuse, but I forgot, that's all. Will you forgive me?"

The writing was wiped away quickly, and the letters that replaced it were slightly sloppy.

' _this once_.'

She wished that she could hear his haughty tone.

"Thank you," Marientte replied with a smile. "That's kind of you."

Later on, she tried to explain the differences between intimate touches and what was usually asked for consent, but she didn't want to confuse him too much. Marinette had said that friends usually touched each other if they were both okay with it, but he'd pointed out that that needed for both of them to consent in the first place, so asking was still necessary.

"Fine." She sniffed. "Do I have permission to touch you in the future? For—for hugs, I mean. If I can see you."

It didn't need to be said that she felt too awkward to try and swat through the air to see whether her hand would catch on anything—if that would even happen. What if she'd only come across a chill? The thought made her feel uncomfortable as she didn't want to bat through Adrien's body, not knowing whether it would cause him discomfort or not.

Adrien's answer to her was full of character.

' _i'll think about it._ '

She was undeniably fond of him.

When she came back from her first day of classes after the new year had begun, she was surprised that he wasn't waiting in the living room for her, as he usually would've. Calling his name, she eventually walked into the bedroom to find that Adrien was a lump underneath her duvet again.

The fond laughter that left her was paired with a wide smile.

She didn't take as long to hug him that time.

"Is this what you wanted?" she questioned with a laugh, moving to get more comfortable. "I—you could've just asked for a hug, you know."

Except he'd never explicitly asked her to before.

"Oh," she said, closing her eyes as she rested her head against him. "You're not mad because I forgot to ask you for permission again, are you?"

A startled laugh escaped when his answer came in the form of him poking her side through the duvet. It was such an action that she'd never associated with him; since the last time that she'd been ever-so-surprised when he'd touched her, he hadn't attempted it again, leaving her to wonder whether he wasn't seeking that kind of company.

"Adrien!" she chastised, rolling over and putting more of her weight on him (to which she had to wonder that caused any discomfort for him—there was so much she didn't know). "There's no need to be a brat. I was just excited to see you."

They stayed like that for a while longer. Marinette adjusted her grip on the duvet a few times, eventually ending up just slumping against him and closing her eyes, and when she'd stopped talking aloud for a few minutes again, Adrien poked her side to prompt her to continue on with her nattering.

"Sorry," she replied, yawning afterwards. "I almost fell asleep there."

While she cooked, the whiteboard hovered close by her side. It was a routine that she'd become used to overtime, though there had been a few mishaps with burning food in the beginning as she'd been so fascinated with seeing him write, back when it had been so new, wondrous, and terrifying.

It was safe to say he was her friend at that point.

' _why do you hug?_ '

She stared at the whiteboard. "You have to be more specific than that."

His corrected answer wasn't much better.

' _why do you hug me?_ '

"Why?" she parroted, gnawing on the inside of her cheek as the seconds passed, showing that he didn't feel inclined to explain himself further. "If you mean when I come home, it's because I'm happy to see you—actually _see_ you."

That wasn't good enough, apparently.

' _why?_ '

She breathed out slowly. "Use your words, Adrien. I can't read your mind."

It took a little while for him to rub out the writing and replace it.

' _why are you happy?_ '

Sometimes, she had to wonder how much he understood of what she'd said. She'd decided to believe that he was a ghost of someone that had died many decades before, so much so that he would only have a limited understanding of the current world, but it was clear that he hadn't retained all of his memories, particularly the ones that explained human emotions most of the time.

It really was like describing something to a child.

There was no face that she could put to his—she only had a height, gender, and name, as he couldn't tell her anything else.

"Because I like you," she replied, utterly sincere. "I hug all of my friends that I'm happy to see. And now, that includes you, too."

' _you're happy i'm in your bed?_ '

"No, no," Marinette answered, shaking her head. Well, that wasn't quite true. She thought it was endlessly endearing that he'd crawled into her bed and hadn't bothered to get out, either showing that he was fine with the embarrassment, or that he didn't feel it at all. "It's the only time that I can... I can actually see your body, if that makes sense? If I tried to hug you normally, I'd just be grasping at air and hoping for the best."

Adrien was never one for writing long responses.

' _that's not true._ '

"What isn't?" she queried, tilting her head curiously. "You're not exactly being clear, you know. It's not like I can ask you to walk around with a sheet over your head, can I? It seems kind of rude—well, unless I cut some eye holes in it for you, but that's even weirder. We're not at that part of our relationship."

As it turned out, he only meant that the last part of her response had been wrong (which took at least fifteen minutes to coax out of him with the short replies). He explained that even if he didn't have an impact on the furniture that he was sitting on, that she'd be able to reach out and actually touch his body if she came into contact with it; it was just a matter of finding it first, then coming to terms with the fact that he was invisible in the first place.

He was open to answering more questions that evening.

According to him, a leaf would hit him the same as anyone else, and that when someone walked into him, they couldn't go through his body, not when he was solid like everyone else, but simply invisible compared to them. There was no phasing through walls, not when he was physically built like a human, and the only reason he didn't want to wear a sheet was because his face would feel hot from his breath.

It was a good reason not to.

"Would I be able to feel it?" she questioned, eyes trained on the whiteboard pen as he fiddled with it. "Your breath, I mean. Since you breathe."

It was strange to think that part of him was silent, too.

His answer was a guess.

' _i assume so._ '

"Let's try it, then," she mused, suddenly sitting upright and putting her hands in her lap. "I promise to stay still and not hit you or something. Just—come closer and breathe on me in a completely normal way. This isn't weird at all."

It shouldn't have come as a surprise, but when she was able to feel a small breeze near the exposed skin of her neck, the temperature was low. She bit on the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing nervously, not wanting to offend him, and waited for a few moments before he pulled away again.

She'd never thought she'd live a life where she'd be asking a ghost to breathe on her for research purposes.

"It was as cold as your touches," Marinette eventually announced, lifting her hand up to put it upon the area where his breath had touched, the warmth of her own skin a welcome addition. "Does it feel cold to you? Your skin, anything."

The other writing was wiped away.

' _it is warm to me._ '

She furrowed her brow. "Then... I feel hot? I mean, _do_ I feel hot to you?"

His answer wasn't expected.

' _you look hot._ '

Marinette laughed until she had tears in her eyes. It was just—it was so utterly unexpected that she hadn't been prepared for it. Of course, she'd known that he was planning to try and use slang more, but she hadn't thought he'd use that in the middle of what was supposed to be a serious conversation.

"Adrien!" she scolded through her laughter, but there was no heat to it due to the breathlessness of her voice. "I—you can't just _do_ that to me."

He didn't bother to wipe away his last message.

' _you're wearing a lot of clothing._ '

And that just made it even worse. It hadn't been him trying to use slang at all, and that made her laugh until her eyes were growing wet again, the laughter turning breathless as she buried her face into her hands.

The coldness that appeared on her shoulder was a surprise. Marinette didn't pull away from being startled, for once, and she was shocked to realise that from staying still, she was able to feel his weight on her at that moment—his actual _hand_.

But when she lifted her head up and quickly turned it to stare at her shoulder, there was nothing there. She could feel him—the weight, the coldness—but there was no other senses that were able to pick up his presence.

"You're touching me," she stated, dumbfounded.

Adrien's hand disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared.

"No, I—" Marinette tried, uselessly reaching out with one of her own hands before realising that she didn't know what she was looking for, instead letting it fall down onto her lap pathetically. "I wasn't complaining. I-I'm fine with you touching me—when we're here on the sofa, I mean. I can be prepared for it that way."

But the touch didn't come back.

Nervously, she waited silently to see what he'd do, and when the writing was wiped away on the whiteboard, she let out the breath that she didn't know that she'd been holding in relief.

' _you felt warm._ '

And that was all that he really needed to say. The writing wasn't slopping, no; the cursive was perfect and the writing had been slow, as though he'd taken his time to get it all correct.

Her smile reached her blue-coloured eyes. "I'll be your personal heater, if you want me to."

' _i don't feel the cold._ '

That just made her smile appeared wider.

-x-

Adrien earned his place as her best friend.

He'd really started to try and use slang after another month together, and it had made her laugh hysterically the first few times. Marinette had taken to watching recent films with him, pointing out the language and telling him to tap her hand twice when he wanted her to pause and explain what was said, even if she had to rewind a little to understand exactly what was said.

She felt protective of him.

It was understandable, really. They'd spent so much time together that she'd grown increasingly fond of him, and whenever one of her friends questioned what she was doing, she honestly replied that she was going to spend time with Adrien. But rather than try and explain her strange life to them—as they'd never believe it—she claimed that he was a long-distance friend that she had, and that they watched and played together on the internet.

They didn't question her too much on that.

The strangest thing was when they questioned whether they were dating. Marinette had laughed straight in their faces, not able to think of him like that; he still seemed like a child to her, even though he was learning, so she supposed that he was close to being a teenager in terms of his personality developing.

The first time it became clear that he felt the same about her with the protectiveness was when one of her neighbours had knocked loudly on her door and proceeded to get into an argument with her over the noise coming from her apartment. Marinette had been playing music loudly the night before, not caring about how loud the volume was, not when she'd finally found an artist that Adrien preferred.

It had been months since she'd actually cared about how loud she was. Her neighbours didn't seem to care either, so her attitude had developed after living there for a while and learning to do what they did.

So, she hadn't been impressed when she was confronted. Although she was a nervous person, always worrying about the possibilities and what could go wrong, she was generally good at giving presentations, for sticking up for herself, and able to handle confrontation well. Her tears of frustration didn't appear unless the argument turned violent (which hadn't happened since she was a kid).

When her neighbour's voice became raised, she wasn't the one to reply.

Rather, the door closed abruptly on their face, the slam so sudden and fast that Marinette took a step back, lips parted silently as she was startled.

And since the doors and walls were so thin, her neighbour could be heard immediately outside, yelling out their frustrations. But before Marinette could do anything, anything at all, Adrien locked the door.

"You—you are so cool," she wheezed out through her laughter.

And he really was.

It wasn't every single day, but he did continue to be underneath her covers when she came home, and every time she spied him there instead of writing on the whiteboard in the living room, she proceeded to hug him.

She was sure that he only did it when he wanted to be touched. Sure, he wasn't able to eat, didn't need to use the toilet like every one, but she knew that he breathed and thought like her, so it made sense that he'd want to be touched, right? That's what went through her mind, at least.

Although he preferred to stick to his short answers, sometimes, when he was feeling generous, he even gave her two sentences. It wasn't often, but she wasn't embarrassed about how excited she got when she saw it.

He did touch her when they were on the sofa, but it usually wasn't anything more than her hand. He rarely held hers with his own for more than a minute (seeming to find it embarrassing, but that was just her guess as he never really answered that question), and stuck to prodding her when he wanted something.

And although he couldn't eat, he was fond of smells. Marinette had bought some discounted candles in the spring, and he'd complimented the smell when she'd experimentally lit one in the living room.

"I'm not going to accidentally exorcise you with a candle, am I?" she questioned, mostly as a joke.

The smell really was pleasant, though. He wasn't kidding there.

' _it takes more than that_.'

That was the first time he mentioned knowing anything about that. Marinette had asked before whether that was actually real or not when they'd watched a film about ghosts, but Adrien hadn't felt like answering her more than saying no.

"What?" she blurted, panic clear in her voice. "Are you—are you saying someone could actually come and banish you?"

The thought was actually terrifying. They'd been together for _months_ , and to think that someone could come and take that away—even though the chances of it happening were beyond miniscule as she wasn't about to tell anyone about it—was something that she considered a nightmare at that point.

' _no one will come._ '

She hadn't even realised that her eyes were staring to tear up. Face feeling a bit hot, Marinette reached up and wiped her eyes with her palm, a smile tugging on her lips as she read his message.

It seemed like he was trying to comfort her. "You're not just saying that, are you?"

The words weren't wiped away.

' _i won't let them._ '

He really was. It wasn't as though he was actually capable of that; Marinette had seen the extent of what he was able to do, and beyond rattling and slamming doors, there wasn't anything dangerous enough to actually keep anyone out. And yet, he was saying that—something that he would've never done in the beginning, not when he hadn't really understood attachment in the first place—and it mad her chest feel warm with pride from how far he'd come.

"You're sweet," she whispered. And then, bravely, she added on, "I want to hug you."

He did wipe away his words that time.

' _aren't you supposed to ask?_ '

A small laugh escaped her. "Can I please hug you? I do need your help to figure out where you even are, anyway."

And instead of writing a reply, there was silence.

It took a moment for Marinette to realise that she needed to speak again. "Put your hands on my shoulders, I guess. I'll try my best."

When his hands really did touch her shoulders, his touch was clearly tentative, not putting all of his weight on her. Marinette grinned, reaching up and resting her own hands on top of his, tracing her way down, feeling the coldness of his skin before her fingertips brushed over what seemed to be fabric.

She'd never thought to ask what clothing he was wearing. That was weird, wasn't it? It wasn't as though he would've just been naked beside her, but trying to think of him with clothes on was even odder when she had no idea about his body.

It was beyond strange.

Other than the temperature, she was able to feel the difference between clothing and skin. She worked her way up until she found his shoulder from where he was sat beside her, and she readily leaned forward as she found his neck, wrapping her arms around it and pulling him closer.

She could feel how he stiffened.

"Hug me back," she suggested, trying to make it less awkward.

She decided it would be less weird if she closed her eyes, going by touch alone. She rested her cheek against him, feeling a little cold from him, but it wasn't severe enough to be uncomfortable. It was just—it was a strange feeling, that was all.

A happy laugh escaped when he loosely wrapped his arms around her waist, causing her clothing to move and the coldness to seep through her clothing. It was the closest they'd ever been without the duvet in the way, a better hug than all the ones she'd given him, unsure whether what part she'd been holding on, and it really made a point that he seemed to be a human being.

Just an invisible one.

Her musings weren't well thought through, though. "You feel big," she blurted, cheeks heating up when she realised what she'd said. "I mean—well, yeah. Tall."

And to her utter surprise, she could feel it as he laughed—the vibration of his chest—but not the actual sound of it. Her lips parted silently in wonder, almost causing her to open her eyes to try and see before logic caught back up with her.

Did that mean he was actually capable of talking about she couldn't hear him? There was a chance that he was just mute, but he'd never told her that.

"I really like you," Marinette admitted, pressing her cheek further against him, adjusting her grip to get comfortable. "Thank you for not haunting me. This is _so_ much better."

The silent laughter that came from him was delightful.

Although she didn't do it often, she did ask to hug him when they were watching something together. Adrien didn't seem to opposed to it, as he'd never rejected her, and she always asked for him to touch her shoulders with his hands so she could get an idea of where he was, rather than her awkwardly reaching out and potentially hitting his face.

That was a fear that made him shake with laughter when she finally told him while they were hugging.

Although his temperature was cooler than hers, Marinette had taken to wrapping a blanket around herself before they sat close together on the sofa. It wasn't foolproof, but it provided the little bit of warmth that her apartment was lacking.

She was just glad that they hadn't started hugging for hours on end when it was still the worst of the winter due to the lack of heating.

The summer brought up the problem of her going home again, though. Marinette had almost caused her parents to be surprised by saying that she wanted to stay in the apartment in the future, rather than applying for a nearby dorm, and it had taken a few weeks to get them to believe her.

Even though she'd agreed to go home and help out once again, she really felt bad about leaving Adrien there. She couldn't leave him her phone or laptop, just like the last time, and the guilty feeling swirled around in her stomach, making her feel comfortable.

Adrien had another little tantrum, slamming the front door so she couldn't get out. She wasn't scared of it any more, though; since the time he'd forcefully shut it on her neighbours, he'd sometimes opened her bedroom door when she was trotting out of the bathroom, making her way through, and she was always pleasantly surprised when he was kind enough to do so.

"I'll only be gone a couple of weeks," she promised, holding both of arms out in the pose that she'd started to become accustomed to when she wanted him to touch her shoulders. "I said I need to come back here and get a job. That means we'll have a while until my classes start again, so we can do anything you want."

The taps on her shoulders seemed almost reluctant.

Marinette grinned, fingertips brushing over the back of her hand as she traced his arm until she found his body, readily moving forward and wrapping her arms around his middle, resting her head on his chest comfortably.

The temperature of his body felt nice compared to the summer heat. Her apartment didn't fare much better when the weather was warmer, sadly, as it seemed like all the windows couldn't be opened wide enough to offer her any relief.

"I'm coming back," Marinette vowed, tightening her arms a little before she relaxed again, keeping her eyes closed. "I can't leave you all alone, can I?"

Adrien had learned that she could feel him when he talked and laughed, meaning that even if she couldn't hear his words, she'd be prompted to try and respond, rather than the two of them breaking the embrace for him to fetch the whiteboard.

Marinette had proposed that he could use her cell phone to write out a message while they were hugging, but he didn't want to do that. He'd gotten comfortable with her laptop, enough to use it while she was asleep, but that didn't mean he was ready to accept all technology.

"It's almost like you're purring when you talk," she mused with a laugh. "I should really get round to showing you what a pet's like, right?"

Of course, there was no verbal answer.

"I won't be long," she promised again, hugging him tighter. "Feel free to keep my bed nice and cold for me, okay?"

He was the one to tighten his grip on her that time.

By the time she made it out of the front door—on time, a bit early for the seats that she'd booked—her cheeks were hurting from smiling so much. The smile didn't last long, though, as by the time she'd made it out of the building, she was staring up at where she knew her window was, wondering whether he was looking down at her.

Regardless of whether he was or not, Marinette raised her hand up and waved good-bye.

The summer she spent at home was much the same as the winter. Marinette admitted that she'd made a friend online that she spent most of her time with, as she wanted to save money rather than going out with her class-mates, as the majority of them either had jobs or rich parents that were willing to help them out, and even though it felt like she was causing her parents to feel a little bit guilty, they didn't pressure her to stay home any longer than they'd agreed on.

They hugged her tightly when she was gone.

Rather than finding Adrien in her bed, Marinette was surprised when the front door flew open barely a second after she'd unlocked it. The action had caught her off-guard, and she'd made a startled noise before realising what it could actually mean, and then a large smile blossomed on her lips.

"I'm back," she announced, stepping through the threshold.

The cold touch to her bare shoulders didn't startle her. Instead, Marinette readily accepted it, running her fingers along the small bit of his skin before it turned into his clothing, pulling him into a tight hug with her eyes instinctively closing.

"I missed you," she murmured.

The way he held her close answered whether he felt the same.

-x-

She got a part-time job in a coffee-shop. It wasn't that time-consuming, thankfully, and she'd successfully worked there for a month before classes started again. Her hours went down so she wouldn't overwork herself, and her parents were still more than happy to give her some money each month, to cover the rent and her groceries, and she was eternally grateful for that.

They were still a bit concerned that she wanted to stay in the dingy apartment, but she assured them that she was fine. The rug on top of her stained carpet did well to help her forget that there was a bloodstain there at all (until she took it off to hoover), the creaking pipes were almost easy to sleep through at that point, though she did get annoyed with the sound of the stairs every now and then.

But Adrien made it all so worth it.

When her classes started up, she was baffled at first by the notification on her phone, but opening it up showed that she'd received an e-mail.

It was the address that had her laugh.

Later, when she'd returned home, the first thing she asked was, "Was that e-mail address really necessary?"

His writing on the whiteboard wasn't as elegant as normal.

' _adrienthefriendlyghost is a great name._ '

"Yeah," she agreed with a laugh. "It did help me realise it was actually you, so I guess you get points for that.

On the days where she didn't have to take her laptop in, he used it to talk to her. While Marinette had said that there were programs where they could instantly message each other instead, Adrien had decided that he liked his idea better (she suspected it was because he was proud that he'd managed it by himself, and she didn't want to take that away from him).

He was just so nice after they'd actually gotten to know each other.

When she did go out with friends on the rare occasion, when it was usually a birthday or something similar, he did show jealous tendencies. Adrien had a habit of sulking, ignoring her and refusing to write when she came back from those, and once their hugging had been introduced, he'd taken to tapping her shoulders for a hug before he ever wrote to her again.

His personality was really showing through.

Since he'd started to show that he really cared about her, a lot more than when she'd disappeared in the beginning, Marinette waited a while to try and explain affection to him again. Although he still didn't quite understand the attraction of having a pet, he did consider her a friend.

And that was great in itself.

"I'm only going for a week this time," Marinette pointed out when winter break rolled around, pressing her index finger against the calender that was hanging in the living. "Got the excuse for a job to come back to, so it'll be much less than before."

Her back was to him when he tapped her shoulders that time. Marinette was going to turn around to embrace him, but she was pleasantly surprised when he wrapped his arms around her middle, clearly leaning down to rest his head on her shoulder, something that she knew he was too tall to do normally.

"Cute," she teased, lifting one hand up to rest on where his were wrapped together on her middle. "Try not to miss me too much."

She could feel it as he talked.

She grinned. "We both know you will, don't even try and deny it."

His grip tightened a bit.

It was endlessly endearing.

As she'd promised, she returned after a week. Adrien opened the door for her once it was unlocked, as he'd done in the summer, and she hadn't been startled that. She was actually hoping for it and wondering whether that made her a bad person.

Although Adrien had compared himself to being a pet in the past, she hadn't really considered it. Sure, he crawled into her bed when she was gone, greeted her at the door, and sought her out for company, but he was human to her—there was no controlling him, not when he was already limited in his options on what to do.

She'd just made him understand boundaries, that was all.

He still had trouble understanding right and wrong, but she was working on that.

As they were hugging tightly after she'd stepped through the threshold, not even considering that anyone in the hallway could probably see her, Marinette had to ask, "Do your clothes even get dirty?"

His laughter was as silent as ever, but she understood the difference between when he was talking and laughing, though it had taken her a little bit to learn. She knew his moods from how his writing appeared, about whether he was feeling nervous or not, and she could almost hear a voice in her head that would reply with his reactions when she was outside, wondering whether he would like something that she'd seen.

It was sad that he couldn't leave.

When Marinette was there to count down to midnight with him, she'd convinced him to wear a silly party hat on his head. To her surprise, it hadn't turned invisible when he'd put it on (then again, the pen hadn't when he'd touched that, but she wasn't thinking clearly after a few drinks), and she'd laughed hysterically until she'd fallen off the sofa.

Instead of touching her shoulder, he reached down and grasped her hand with his cold one, pulling up her.

Marinette had laughed more at that. "You're so sweet."

A matching party hat was put onto her head, and she'd hastily gotten her phone, taking a picture of the two of them. And when she'd looked to see that the hat was floating in the picture, as it was within her vision, she'd laughed until she had tears.

It was proof of his existence, but she wasn't going to show it to anyone.

He wasn't a dirty secret, but he was the highlight of her life at that point. His presence made her happier than any of her friends, and she got excited whenever she saw that he was writing on the whiteboard in the mornings to greet her.

She wouldn't give that up just to prove to others that he really was a ghost stuck in her apartment. He'd stay as her online friend for the foreseeable future, especially as she had e-mail proof of him messaging her (which still made her laugh when she saw the address).

February came with a surprise.

They'd gotten closer, but it was only natural after living together for almost a year and a half. Marinette spent most evening leaning against him, sprawled in one way or another, and he knew what she looked like on her worst days.

She hadn't thought of it as another other than friendship, and she'd believed that he was on the same wavelength as her.

However, that didn't seem to be the case.

It wasn't a confession that she got. She was curled up on the sofa beside him, absent-mindedly playing attention to the film that was playing on her laptop, trying hard not to fall asleep as her eyelids continued to droop. She wondered whether Adrien would be in the same position if he was able to sleep, but she didn't voice those thoughts often.

She became aware of his touch when he brushed some of her dark-coloured hair behind her ear. It brought a shiver across her skin, but it wasn't unpleasant. Marinette smiled, leaning into his hand when she realised that he was still touching her, happy that he was initiating contact at all.

He still seemed shy sometimes.

Then, her position was shifted as he leaned back. With a turn of her head, she furrowed her brow when she noticed that he'd reached for the whiteboard that had been left beside them.

It wasn't often that he wanted to write when they were watching something.

"What's up?" she queried, even though she wouldn't get an answer straight away.

Although the time it took him to turn the whiteboard around was large, the amount of writing was limited. From the way the letters looked, she was able to pick up that his mood was wavering.

' _can i kiss you?_ '

She stared.

He—they weren't like _that_. Goodness, Adrien wasn't even—he _couldn't—_

It was her turn to ask, "Why?"

She could feel him against her still, able to tell roughly where his head would be as he rested the whiteboard awkwardly on the arm of the chair for her to see. There wasn't anything comfortable about their position any more, not after the shift that had happened.

That wasn't something they spoke about often. Adrien couldn't—he wasn't able to understand affection well, so why would he ask that of her?

He didn't wipe away the previous message.

' _i have feelings for you_.'

But that didn't answer much. She didn't know the extent of his feelings, not when he had trouble understanding a villain's choices in fiction—or even a love interest's reasons for pursuing someone in romantic films, something that caused him to ask the most questions when they'd started watching different things together.

Adrien wasn't ever someone that she'd considered romantically. How could she when she couldn't even _see_ him? Although she was visible for him, she was the only one in his life; the only one that hadn't ran away in fear due to him only wanting a form of entertainment. Sure, they'd struck up a strange friendship, one that he hadn't had before, but that didn't mean it would turn into anything else on whim.

She wetted her lips.

Slowly, she extracted herself from his side, sitting up straight so she could no longer feel his breathing from his invisible chest.

"And are you sure they're romantic?" she asked gently, attempting to get more answers despite the nervous fluttering of her heart. Adrien didn't get offended often—he didn't really know _what_ to be offended about—but she didn't want to ruin what they had. "Can you talk me through them, so I can understand?"

He did wipe away the previous messages that time, and when he turned the whiteboard around, the answer seemed so juvenile.

' _i like you._ '

A half-hearted smile tugged on her lips. "I like you, too, but that doesn't mean it's a romantic kind of love."

His next message looked more sloppy.

' _i want you to be mine._ '

But this was Adrien. The same Adrien that had never understood when a love interest had said such a thing, and Marinette had to go on to explain that no one could really own another, but it was a silly romantic sentence that would sometimes be offensive to another.

"Do you mean you don't want to share me?" Marinette softly enquired, reaching out and putting her hand upon his cold knee, the material so close to jeans that she was sure that that was what he was wearing. "Because I feel the same about you. I don't want you to have what we do with anyone else."

The next reply had her exhaling audibly.

' _yes._ '

And that was all that needed to be said, really. And yet, after showing it to her, it was there for barely a few seconds before he turned the whiteboard around, hastily writing something else with the pen.

' _we need to kiss for you to be mine._ '

He was really cute.

"Not quite," she answered, squeezing his knee lightly. "Best friends can be really possessive of each other, too. This level of fondness doesn't have to mean we're romantic, Adrien."

The sound of the pen against the whiteboard seemed loud.

' _you're my only friend._ '

"Yes." It wasn't easy to forget that little titbit. "But you're also my best friend. I'm not this close to anyone else—and even if I kissed someone, it wouldn't change anything between us."

The writing was rubbed away quickly.

' _i don't want you kissing anyone else._ '

"But we don't have to kiss," she patiently explained. "And it'll have to happen eventually, just like I share my time with others when I have to leave the apartment."

He reply seemed almost petulant.

' _no_.'

There wasn't much more she could do to explain it to him. Still, she praised him for asking for permission first, proud that he'd remembered that, and continued to hold his hand for the rest of the evening, even if she was sitting up for the majority of it.

A few days later, Marinette decided it was a good idea to try and explain affection to him again, but with a new addition to the household.

It wasn't her smartest decision, she knew that, but that wasn't stopping her. Marinette came home from classes an hour later than usual—already knowing that Adrien would be upset about that—and came through the front door with a pet carrier in her hand.

The high-pitched noise from within wasn't easy to hide.

"Adrien," she called, setting the carrier down gently before searching through the apartment to see where he was.

And when she found the lump in her bed, she wasted no time to jump on top of him, sure that he'd made a noise of protest, even though she couldn't hear it.

"Adrien," she sang, poking what she hoped to be his side. "Come out, I've got a surprise for you in the living room. You're going to _flip_."

It took a couple of minutes to coax him out.

And when he made it to the living room—indicated by the bedroom door after Marinette had closer it when she'd wandered out by herself—she'd already gotten the necessary items out of her bag, trying to make the living space more enjoyable for the future.

There was a distinct lack of the whiteboard being used.

"Adrien?" she questioned, eyes darting around to try and find where he'd be, regardless of how useless it was. "Come here, I've got a special someone for you to meet."

But it didn't turn out how she'd expected. Rather than being excited about the kitten that she'd brought home, Adrien first response was a question.

' _why?_ '

Why was it there? Why did she think it was necessary for them to have someone else in their home? There was a lot of possibilities for what he could mean, but none of them seemed to be pleasant. As the dark-coloured kitten stayed in the carrier, staring up at her with curiosity, Marinette had to wonder whether she'd done the right thing.

-x-

The intention was for Adrien to understand affection for someone else, especially after the confession that she'd gently rejected. Rather than bringing in a friend, as it would've been too hard for them to understand, Marinette thought that having an animal at home for him to maybe interact with while she wasn't there would be a good idea, ignoring the fact that the pet wouldn't be able to see him.

But instead of that, Adrien was reluctant to do anything with it.

"I want you to name her," Marinette insisted after a few days had passed, feeling too awkward to keep referring to the kitten without an actual name. "She's ours, so we have to take care of her."

Adrien promptly ignored her for that.

' _i don't want it._ '

" _She_ ," Marinette emphasised, crossing her arms as her eyes stayed focus on the whiteboard, "isn't going anywhere."

But it didn't get any better. Adrien didn't want to be a part of the kitten's life; whether it was Marinette calling out because something amusing was happening, to pettily knocking over the bowl with water in it, only to be a nuisance.

He was being childish, and she wasn't afraid to tell him. She knew that he had to share her someday, but trying to tell him that wasn't doing any good. Adrien was stubbornly insisting that they didn't need anyone else living with them, especially not a kitten who'd try and crawl into bed with him while he was waiting for her to come home.

It would be a lie if she said she wasn't frustrated about how it had turned out.

"She's a defenceless kitten," Marinette insisted, pointing to where she was playing on the floor with a toy. "Not anything that can cause you harm. There's no reason to be a dick just because you don't want to share me."

It took a couple of weeks, but he did slowly grow to be less upset. Marinette could feel how he stiffened whenever the kitten jumped up to sit on her—or even climb on him before being visibly befuddled from the lack of surface she was standing on—while they were cuddling, but he wasn't as outright dismissive as he was in the beginning.

Slowly, he started to tell her about what had happened while she was outside of the apartment. Marinette grinned widely the first time he told her, trying not to interrupt or give away how very happy she was, but she was sure that he knew her well enough to know by that point.

The kitten didn't make it past living with them for two months.

Marinette's eyes hurt from crying so much, and her nose was irritated from all the tissues. She'd come home at her usual time, but instead of the kitten greeting her at the front door, all excited that she was back, she'd been greeted by silence.

Post-its littered the floor.

Confused, Marinette picked up the nearest one, turning it over so the writing was visible.

' _i'm sorry._ '

The one phrase was repeated countless times, filling up all the pages, making it so at least six of them filled one note alone, and she'd been even more confused by them. Adrien's whiteboard was filled with much the same, the apology being repeated over and over, and she cautiously called out his name, trying to find out where he was.

She opened her bedroom door slowly.

The sight had caused her to empty the contents of her stomach on the floor promptly.

Adrien had been hiding underneath her covers, a familiar lump, but the one difference to usual was that there was something hanging off of the end of the frame of her bed.

Her kitten was hanging there by her collar, strangled.

She'd fallen down onto her backside, horrified at the sight as tears welled into her eyes, utterly in disbelief that it had happened at all. She'd just—she wanted to be safe, to put a collar and a tag so someone would call her if the kitten ever managed to make it outside, but in the end, it was completely her fault that the accident had happened at all, wasn't it?

As she sobbed, she hadn't remembered Adrien's presence until she felt a cold hand against her cheek wiping away the tear. She didn't waste any time in throwing herself over him, sobbing into his shoulder, not caring about the possibility that she'd be able to get his shirt wet—what did it even matter when she'd managed to hurt something she'd loved?

It was even worse when she realised she didn't have a garden to bury the kitten in.

Adrien explained the notes a few days later.

' _i wasn't strong enough._ '

She didn't push him for anything more.

"I-I don't blame you," Marinette assured him, clumsily reaching out to take his cold hand into hers. "It's not your fault."

And it wasn't a lie. Adrien had admitted that he wasn't strong enough to stop it, or even to lift the kitten from where the accident had happened, but it had never crossed her mind before that. Sure, they hadn't been friends, but Adrien wasn't capable of that kind of coldness.

"I'm sorry," she said, sniffing loudly afterwards. "I never wanted you to see something like that."

It took a few days for him to be affectionate with her again. Adrien shut himself off for a while, not sitting beside her on the sofa, and she continued to cry every time she thought about what had happened. But instead of dwelling on it, she tried to appear cheerful and talk to him normally.

Adrien told her to stop faking her smiles.

It was sweet of him, definitely, but it had caused tears to well up in her eyes all over again. For Adrien to know her that well meant a lot to her, but then she realised that she could tell his mood by his writing, and she assumed that they were almost the same thing.

She did still wonder what he looked like.

Things went back to normal after a little while.

Marinette had never been more grateful for his presence than when she was feeling stressed about the project that she was working on. She was frustrated beyond belief in the living room, close to tears from not being able to do what she wanted, and it was the gentle brush of his hand against her cheek that had her calming down.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," Marinette mumbled into his shoulder as she was draped against him, so utterly comfortable in a way that she hadn't been with any of her other friends.

Before university, she'd had close friends, of course, but no one had shared the relationship that she had with Adrien. Then again, no one else was invisible and forced to live in her apartment for all of eternity—

He'd just brushed some of her hair behind her ear when she asked softly, "Is there any way to help you leave?"

It had been rhetorical more than anything else, mumbled to herself, so she was surprised when he leaned back to reach for the whiteboard.

' _what do you mean?_ '

Her brow furrowed. "For you to leave the apartment? I—I'm not asking to exorcise you, you idiot."

The thought of him disappearing was a horrible one. Marinette had confided in him a couple of months back, before the kitten disaster, that she was terrified of him disappearing due to his power dwindling, no longer holding him to her world. All she'd gotten in return was him assuring her that it didn't work that way, and that he would be attached to the apartment for the future.

' _are you sure?_ '

She hit his arm gently, even though his body wasn't able to be damaged. "I like having you around, Adrien. I'm not going to call in some idiotic priest to banish you."

His words were wiped away.

' _you mean that._ '

There wasn't a question mark, but she still felt that it was implied. "Of course," she murmured, leaning against him and resting her chin on his shoulder as she closed her eyes. "You're my best friend."

A brush of her hair told her it was time to open them to look at his reply.

' _there is a way._ '

She stiffened. "What?"

When he replied that time, his words were slow, the cursive as precise as possible.

' _it is possible to attach me to something other than the apartment_.'

It was one of the longest things he'd ever said to her. Marinette gaped, sitting upright as she stared at the writing, trying to make sure that she wasn't misreading it.

It was good news, it had to be, but—but he'd taken almost two years to open up to her about it. Hadn't she been supportive before? It hurt to think that he hadn't trusted her enough to tell her, especially when they'd been so close; surely, even after a few months together, it was more than anyone else had given him—

That wasn't a nice way to think.

Marinette wetted her lips.

For him to even mention it to her meant a lot, so it was because of that that she softly asked, "Really?"

His free hand brushed over the back of hers before gently holding it with his, the other one wiping away the writing. It had to have been awkward for him, surely trying to balance the whiteboard without it falling over, but she appreciated the gesture.

It made her feel really loved.

And his next words had her heart fluttering in anticipation in her chest.

' _it can be you._ '

"Me?" she questioned, voice higher-pitched than usual due to her surprise. It was so sudden to learn about it, but she appreciated it completely. "I—does that mean, if I do what's needed, you'd be able to go out with me?"

It seemed like minutes passed before he turned the whiteboard back for her to see.

' _would you want that?_ '

"Of course," Marinette confirmed without hesitation, squeezing his hand gently. "You—you being able to go outside with me? That's _amazing_. I really hope there's, like, a large range or something, so you're able to go off by yourself when you want to. I don't want to drag you around against your will."

It seemed so impossible. For so long, Marinette had only thought that he was tied to the apartment due to him dying there, all those decades ago, though she'd never researched further than that. It seemed like Adrien didn't care about that; whenever she asked about whether he was sad that he didn't know about himself, he never confirmed her thoughts. So, she'd stayed away from that, respecting his decision.

But for him to _leave_? To actually be able to roam, while she was at class or whenever he wanted a break, seemed too good to be true.

' _as long as you live, i can travel anywhere._ '

"Anywhere?" she echoed, astonished. "I—but what if I _die_?"

The writing was wiped away.

' _i'll be trapped where you died._ '

That had so many implications that made her breath get caught in her throat. It would explain why he was tethered to the apartment, not able to leave for years of end, and why she'd resorted to scaring anyone that moved in for entertainment (not his finest moments, but she didn't hold it against him).

No ghost-related media had ever portrayed them in such a way.

Then again, she doubted that many would be able to actually converse with a ghost to make sure that they were correct, not caring about not offending one tiny part of their audience.

The thought almost made her laugh.

"I'd do it," she blurted, the fluttering of her heart from anticipation, not nerves. "I'd do it in a heartbeat—anything to help you, Adrien."

His hand squeezed hers that time.

' _i'll tell you when i'm sure._ '

But he didn't say what he needed to be sure of. Marinette didn't want to push him, instead choosing to try and focus on the film once more, ignoring the excited sound of her pulse, the honest fantasies in her mind as she wondered how they'd be able to interact in public without anyone finding her suspicious, or how he'd be able to reply at all.

She was absolutely going to write down her ideas.

-x-

As it turned out, him being sure was when she'd returned from spending two weeks at her parents' during the summer before coming back for work. In a couple of weeks, she'd be starting her final year at university, all while living in the same crappy apartment building that she'd come to love, only because of the company.

Her parents had still been dubious about her deciding to stay, the two of them taking it in turn to show different dorms that they'd found online, opening the webpages and discreetly leaving them up for her to see when she wandered around their home. It made her smile fondly at their antics, pleased that they cared about her at all, but she'd already started making plans—that she didn't voice aloud to Adrien—for the two of them to find a better place to live after the year was over and Adrien was tethered to her.

That was such a thrilling thought.

The hug she got when she returned was almost crushing. Marinette closed her eyes, sincerely holding him close to her, able to hear the beating of his heart if she placed her ear against his chest in the right place.

He was alive, in a way, and that was all that was required for him to be her best friend.

"Oh, come on," Marinette said with a laugh, holding up the present that she'd bought him. "They're cute, aren't they? Don't be such a spoilsport."

Marinette had always joked that she'd buy him something to wear on his feet, so she'd know where he was, but she'd finally given in to the urge and bought a pair of ridiculous slippers when she saw that they were on sale while she was shopping with her mother. Her mother hadn't thought anything of them, just laughing fondly at her antics, and Marinette's answering grin had been so large that she was sure it looked like her eyes were almost closed.

' _i'm wearing shoes._ '

" _No_ ," Marinette gasped, placing an offended hand over her chest. "You've been wearing shoes in my apartment all along? No wonder it gets so messy."

The gentle jab that she got to her side only made her laugh more.

There was a lot that could be said without words. Marinette had proposed leaving a set of flashcards with common phrases on them on the coffee table, but Adrien had gotten offended at that, thinking that it wasn't as sincere when it wasn't actually from him.

Sometimes, he really was adorable.

While she was eating dinner on the floor, her bowl placed on the coffee table and a cushion underneath her backside to try and make it more comfortable, Adrien was sat beside her in much the same position, his whiteboard placed where a bowl should've been.

He brought up the subject of his placement first.

' _do you still want to help_?'

At first, she was confused about what she was referring to before taking a leap and asking, "With attaching you to me?"

His writing was steady.

' _yes_.'

"Absolutely," she confirmed after swallowing a mouthful of food, choosing to put the cutlery down to give him her full attention. It seemed only fair after he was finally trusting her enough—she didn't want to fuck it up because she was hungry. "As long as I don't have to—I don't know—sacrifice a virgin or something."

The pen stayed still on the whiteboard making a little dot.

She snorted. "Witchcraft online either seems to be really fucking vague or straight up animal slaughter, which is pretty weird. I'm not doing that one either."

He didn't write anything more.

"What?" Marinette asked, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. "I didn't guess right or anything, did I?"

The dot turned into a line as he jerked his hand away.

"Adrien," she scolded with a laugh as she crossed her arms over her chest. "You're not trying to recruit me into some weird cult, are you? I know I said I'd do anything for you, but I do have limits—I know, surprising, right?"

That caused him to finally write back to her.

' _the first._ '

She blinked. "That's very informative, thanks."

And as the seconds passed, it became clear that he didn't understand that she was being sarcastic. Marinette looked in his general direction, gesturing with her hand for him to continue, hoping that it got her point across.

Thankfully, it did, but the answer wasn't anything she ever wanted to see.

' _virgin._ '

She fucking choked.

"Vi—virgin?" Marinette stuttered, voice higher-pitched due to a mixture of her surprise and how she'd choked when she'd abruptly swallowed. With a few coughs to clear her throat, she tried to ignore how heated her face felt. "Stop fucking around."

' _you said you'd do anything._ '

It almost seemed like he was trying to make her feel guilty.

"I'm—I'm not going to _murder_ anyone for you!" Marinette stuttered, falling back off of her pillow before she scrambled to stand up. The height different between them didn't make her feel any better, not eve when she was looking down on his whiteboard that was hovering a little bit away from the coffee table. "Please, just—tell me the truth. Are you you just messing around with me?"

Her heart was hammering within her chest, the pulse audible in her head, and she wasn't sure whether it was because of her irritation or not. Adrien—Adrien wouldn't take her feelings for granted, to trick her when she'd gotten her hopes up for him having a better future with her, better than stuck inside a crappy apartment where the heating didn't even work.

Not that he needed heating—it was the thought that counted.

It seemed like he took minutes to answer her, when in reality, not even a minute had passed and she'd been able to see every letter as it was written.

' _a virgin sacrifice will tether me to you._ '

It felt like her throat was tightening.

"No, no," she frantically repeated, shaking her head. "That's not—I didn't agree to commit a _crime_ , Adrien!"

It shouldn't have been like that. Adrien had held the information back, yes, but it shouldn't have been because it was something so horrific—rather, it should've been because he hadn't trusted her enough, or not known if her feelings for him were genuine—

Anything but what was actually being proposed.

But rather than comforting her, his words only caused more panic.

' _it's simple_.'

"I'm not—I'm not doing that," Marinette choked out, running a hand harshly over her face, childishly trying to make sure whether she was awake or not. Her opinion of Adrien had gone up, so very far up, and yet in the past few minutes he seemed to be doing everything he could do make it decrease. Her voice was small as she rasped, "Why would you ask me that?"

It felt a little bit like a betrayal. He should've known her well enough to know that she wouldn't do that—she wasn't even good at watching films where animals died, so why would she willingly cause someone's death, let alone one that was so specific?

His response came across as sulking.

' _you asked_.'

She blinked rapidly to try and get rid of the tears of panic.

There was no denying that.

She wiped at her eyes hastily with her palms, pressing a bit too harshly and causing black spots to appear in her vision for a few seconds, before taking in a shaking breath. "You're my best friend."

Every word was the truth. She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see the floating pen, to be reminded of what she was disagreeing with, suddenly aware of how nauseated she felt from the waft of the untouched food in front of her.

"I said I'd do anything for you, and—and I would within reason, really, I would." She swallowed audibly. "Isn't... I mean, is there not a loophole or something? I love you, Adrien, but I'm not going to find a virgin and murder them for you."

It was the least she could do to ask. To reject him outright, to not try and talk through it after his awful answer wasn't something that she was willing to do. They'd lived together for almost two years and the amount that she cared for him wouldn't be brushed aside because of what he was.

Agreeing to do it would've only made her a murderer; Adrien was still innocent of that, as he'd said in the beginning, and she was determined to keep it that way. He was just a mischievous ghost that wanted amusement, and she was going to do everything in her power—within reason—to make sure that he'd be able to entertain himself in the future.

Her heart was beating erratically in her chest as he pressed the nib of the pen against the whiteboard.

' _there is._ '

She blinked. "A loophole? That's what you mean, right?"

The tap against her hand didn't make her jump. Marinette was practically jumping in her seat from excitement from that answer.

"One that doesn't involve murder?" she questioned. "Please, please, tell me it's not breaking any big laws—you know, like murder. I'm sure I can deal with something small."

Adrien was her best friend.

' _virgin sacrifice._ '

Marinette deflated, putting her face into her hands with a groan. "Not that, come _on_! We just spoke about this, Adrien!"

Who was she to question how ghosts worked? There wasn't much information out there about him, none that was reliable and actually matched up to what she knew about him, so there wasn't any reason not to believe him. Adrien had earned her trust steadily over time, and by that point, there wasn't anyone that she trusted more than him.

He wiped the messages away.

' _virginity sacrifice._ '

The little bit added to the first word clarified a lot.

Baffled, Marinette opened her mouth silently before closing it a few times, too shocked to find the right words. Had she—had she just been jumping to the wrong conclusions before? Adrien hadn't exactly _said_ murder before, so it was entirely possible.

She felt guilty at that.

"And what..." Marinette trailed off, clearing her throat. "What do you mean with that, exactly?"

His answer made her laugh aloud.

' _sex._ '

"Right, yes," she choked out through her laughter, voice sounding breathy. "I got that bit, thanks. I meant—who would be having sex? You know, how it all works? Because I'm really confused about whether you want, like, some couple to come in here and fuck in front of you to somehow tether you to me—"

The nib stayed against the whiteboard.

With a disgusted noise, Marinette asked, "You're not expecting me to have sex with someone in front of you, are you?"

But there wasn't an answer straight away. Instead, Adrien was slowly wiping off his writing, taking his sweet time to reply to her.

Her nervous rambling continued. "I'm not—we're not in that kind of relationship!" she spluttered, shaking her head with enough force to make her feel a bit dizzy. "There's no way, no fucking way, that I'm going to let some strangers into my home, let alone for _me_ to have sex with one—first of all, gross, and second of all, I'm not having my first—"

She sucked in a sharp breath.

"You..." Marinette paused, running a hand through her hair roughly. "This isn't much better than the first option. Murder's sounding pretty great right now."

His answer wasn't very informative.

' _you_.'

"Me," she repeated dumbly. "You mean—are you assuming I'm a virgin here? Because that's pretty rude, you know, you can't just ask that."

' _i wasn't asking, but i am now._ '

She stubbornly crossed her arms, embarrassed. "Well, go ahead and actually ask. I'm not going to humour you here."

How did it get to that at all? Barely a few minutes ago she'd been freaking out over Adrien potentially asking her to murder someone—she was so glad it had just been an misunderstanding—but the sudden change caused her to shift until her back was against the sofa, trying to get more comfortable on the floor.

' _you're a virgin, aren't you, marinette?_ '

Warmth flooded her cheeks. "And how is that any of your business?"

It was a petulant reply, she knew, but talking about her lack of love-life wasn't something that they did. She'd hoped that Adrien would've learned to share her when she found someone that she wanted to date, but anyone that had asked her out at university had been promptly rejected when she remembered the plans that she'd made with Adrien before. The guilty feeling that appeared whenever she thought about him staying in the apartment alone, with only e-mails to send to her to keep himself company, was always a good incentive for her to reject invitations.

' _virginity sacrifice._ '

She narrowed her eyes at the pen, imagining it was his feature-less face. "I'm not having sex with a stranger for you, no matter how much you beg."

His reply didn't take that long, surprisingly.

' _i'm not asking you to do that._ '

"Oh?" she questioned, raising her eyebrows, aware that she sounded so very sarcastic. "And what do you mean, then? How am I supposed to lose my virginity for you to—"

It should've been obvious.

It was just—she'd never seen him _that_ way. When she'd learned that she could touch him, those kind of thoughts were promptly avoided as she didn't want to make it awkward between them, and she definitely didn't want to voice them aloud. And yet, with his reply, the intrusive thoughts that she'd pushed away were coming back with full force and her cheeks reddened from her embarrassment.

" _You_?" Her voice cracked. "I— _what_ —"

' _i like you, marinette._ '

The laugh that escaped sounded almost hysterical. "That's great, real good reason to want to have sex with me," Marinette replied, her voice higher-pitched than usual. "I—if I was to say yes, how would it even work? I can't see you, Adrien. That's kind of a big thing about having sex."

His writing was messy.

' _i wouldn't do this with anyone else._ '

"Is that supposed to be romantic?" she blurted, pulling her knees up to her chest. "Because it's not. It's really not. You might want to work on your delivery, maybe throw in a pick-up line to sweeten me up first before working your way into my pants."

' _marinette._ '

She could almost hear him scolding her.

"I'm sorry!" It wasn't sincere, and she threw her hands up in exasperation. "I'm not used to my invisible best friend asking to have sex with me. It's not something that happens every fucking day! I'm not prepared for this, not at all."

The whiteboard was wiped quickly.

' _it's the only way to bind me to you._ '

She felt a bit crazed as she cried out, "We might as well get married if it's eternally binding!"

The cold hand that appeared on her shoulder didn't make her flinch, but she didn't lean into it as she usually would. Adrien brushed the loose hair that had fallen into her face away, cupping her cheek tenderly. It was a move that he'd started to do in the last few months, one that she'd never thought much of, but since his proposal and her thoughts being indecent at best, it caused the colour on her cheeks to deepen, showing her embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, closing her eyes, thinking about how nice his hand felt against her. "I'm just—I haven't done it before, you know? Well, maybe you don't or do and have just forgotten it. I really hope the two of us doing it won't unlock some weird memory of your other partners, because that would make it so much more awkward—"

Realising what she'd said, Marinette cleared her throat.

"You're my best friend," she repeated for the umpteenth time, utterly sincere. "I couldn't think of anyone better to do—do it with, _fuck_ , I mean—well, yeah, that. Fuck's right. I'm rambling, ignore me. I'm just really nervous but you're a nice guy and I doubt you're doing this to take advantage of me. You don't even watch me in the shower with your whole invisible thing."

It was utterly overwhelming to think about.

She swallowed audibly. "Explain it to me properly."

-x-

He wasn't kidding about the virginity thing, sadly. Adrien had waited until the following day for her to calm down before explaining it properly—well, as thoroughly as he could for his personality.

It turned out that he really was asking her to have sex with him.

It would allow him to leave and travel wherever, no longer attached to one apartment. He'd be able to walk around freely, not attached to her side, and he'd slipped in that if she didn't want to see him, then they didn't actually have to see each other again.

She frowned at that. "You're not—you're not going to just run away, are you?"

His reply was swift.

' _no_.'

It was all that needed to be said.

Marinette found her thoughts wandering since she'd found out, though. She couldn't stop the nagging feeling of curiosity as she asked quietly, "Is this why you asked to kiss me?"

She wasn't really expecting an answer, not after they'd ignored it for so long. Even though she'd patiently tried to explain to him the possibility of his feelings being confused, they hadn't brought it up again since. It was unknown to her whether she'd offended him with her rejection back then—but she had to wonder if he'd asked that to try and ease into it without actually telling her what would happen if their relationship turned intimate.

But the thought of Adrien wanting to be intimate with her for the wrong reasons without telling her everything wasn't a nice one.

Again, his answer was short, straight to the point, and what she needed to hear.

' _no._ '

Her smile reached her eyes.

There wasn't much thinking that needed to be done. When Marinette had said that she'd do anything for him—barring murder and other illegal activities—she'd meant it.

So, it was after she'd changed into her nightdress for the evening that she padded out of the shower, her wet hair dripping onto the towel that was wrapped around her shoulders.

"I'll do it," she announced, using the excuse of wiping the droplets away from her face with the towel not to look towards the whiteboard. "But I have some conditions."

She'd never thought she'd be giving her virginity away to a ghost, let alone one that lived with her. Her not having sex with someone before hadn't seemed like a big deal, and it wouldn't have been to someone else (other than them, perhaps, questioning about her lack of activity), but the fact that it was a major part of Adrien's life was absolutely baffling.

Then again, it had been important many years ago—maybe the modern ghosts weren't as bad.

That thought made her laugh.

' _go on._ '

She settled down on the sofa beside him. "First of all," Marinette started, purposely holding her hand out and showing her index finger. "This is really important, okay? I'm not just being shallow. I really want to know what age you died at—assuming that's what you're stuck as, right? Because if you're, like, old-aged, I'm going to have to say _no_. I'm only twenty-one next week, I can't sleep with someone the age of my grandfather."

As he'd never told her off about her rambling before—rather, it seemed like he found her amusing when she did it—she didn't try and filter her thoughts around him much. Plus, he was good at picking up her moods.

' _you've felt me._ '

She pulled a face at that. "That makes it sound terrible. I've felt... your hands? I haven't just put my hands on your face, that's weird."

If she was close to him, she was sure that she would've felt him laughing.

' _no wrinkles._ '

"Okay." Marinette nodded, accepting that as an acceptable age range. Unless he was a gangly child, there was very little chance that he was under-aged, and even then, he would've been dead for years— _that_ was a bad trail of thought. "Would this—I mean, me and you, would it count as necrophilia?"

His answer was to grasp her hand that she'd been counting on and press it on his chest, just over where his heart was located.

"Fine," she muttered, taking her hand back. "For my sanity, it's not."

It was so strange that they were talking about it at all.

"I want to keep my pyjamas on," she stated, indicating towards the nightdress that she had on that reached the middle of her thighs. "This—this is already awkward enough as it is, I really don't want to throw you seeing my breasts into this, not when I won't see you in return."

The whiteboard was rubbed clean.

' _you will_.'

Taking that as confirmation, Marinette murmured, "Thank you."

There was a lot more that needed to be said, but she was embarrassed. Wasn't the saying that if she couldn't say sex without squirming then she shouldn't be having any? The relationships she'd had in the past hadn't gone anywhere, and she'd never expected to have sex for the first time in such a casual way—it wasn't that she was against it completely, not when it was with her best friend to _help_ him, but it was the nerves that made her want to stall it.

She wasn't nervous that he'd make fun of her. Adrien wasn't like that; she'd just wanted an occasion with affectionate touches and kisses, not what was going to happen.

' _what else?_ '

"It's embarrassing," she replied quietly, leaning into his side and resting her head on his shoulder when she'd found it. "You're absolutely going to laugh."

' _tell me._ '

She grimaced. "Can you—can you wear something so I'll be able to actually see where you are?"

As soon as she'd said it, she'd known that she wasn't clear enough.

' _i'm not wearing a sheet._ '

Instead of him, it was her that burst out laughing at the thought. "I—I meant for your—" Marinette explained through her laughter, vaguely pointing where she assumed his crotch was. "Besides, can you even take your clothes off? I don't want to the zip of your jeans rubbing against me."

Her face already felt hot.

' _jeans?_ '

"Yeah?" She shrugged. "I'm assuming that's what you're wearing. I don't really know."

There was no set time that he wasn't from, not from what he could remember and tell her, so there was no telling if he'd died a couple of decades before and had just been in a strict family. Adrien's lack of a backstory had been sad at first, but after she'd tried to create some for him, asking his opinion on what was best, he'd told her to stop and let him be unknown.

It was less fun that way.

' _i can take them off._ '

She hit his arm gently. "You've been able to all this time but you've kept your shoes on?"

The shaking of his body was her only answer.

"Honestly, I'm mostly worried about how cold you are?" It came out sounding like a question. "It's not super cold, but it's not—well, not neutral? I don't know how to describe it. You're just never warm."

It really was an honest worry. The blanket between them in the winter was sometimes not enough, so she'd shuffled away from him to try and keep herself warm. But in the middle of summer, his body did feel nice against hers due to the temperature difference, but she worried whether that would actually feel good when it was another body part of his.

There was no use feeling embarrassed about it forever.

"Do you—" Marinette cut herself off, clearing her throat after her voice had cracked. "Do you want to do it now?"

His response was short.

' _now?_ '

"Yeah." She tucked some stray hairs behind her ears. "Might as well get it over with, right? Not that I'm trying to say this is a chore, I'm just—I'm very overwhelmed right now, okay. Please, don't be offended by my babbling."

To her surprise, he really did accept her proposal. They spoke for a little bit more, Marinette asking for the last time whether it would really work, and after Adrien had confirmed it, they finally moved to her bedroom. It wasn't often that they were both in her bed together; only for a while after she'd returned home and found him in it and hugged, or the few times where she'd been ill and placed her laptop on the bedside table to amuse herself, causing him to come trailing in with his whiteboard to keep her company.

The atmosphere was different than usual.

Opening the drawer of her bedside table, Marinette withdrew the protection that she'd bought the day before, gently placing it on the bed beside him.

"Last chance to tell me this is all a joke," she said weakly, a small laugh sounding at the end.

She received a light flick to her bare arm.

The nightdress was short-sleeved, the fabric thin, and it was one of the lights things she owned to wear to bed. She smoothed out the material of her dress nervously, turning around so she wouldn't have to look at him.

But barely any time passed before she felt a tap on her shoulder. Marinette turned out, not quite sure what she was expecting, but it definitely wasn't his whiteboard being held up for her to see.

' _can i kiss you now?_ '

It was flattering.

Marinette had rejected him in the past, not wanting to encourage anything that would be troublesome between them, but she didn't want to repeat that at that moment. They were close as they were, and she really wanted the distraction to try and ignore the nervous beating of her heart.

She wetted her lips.

"I—okay," Marinette replied, taking the towel off from around her shoulders, placing it onto the frame of her bed. "But you kind of have to be the one to initiate it. I have _no_ idea where you are."

Instead of going straight for it as she'd expected, Adrien gently placed a hand onto her arm, guiding it towards him so she had him in a half-hearted hug, one that didn't feel too awkward when she closed her eyes. It was so much easier to welcome the darkness of her eyelids instead of seeing through him, finding it less frustrating to trust her other senses.

He brushed the damp hair away from her face, the move tender and affectionate as all the other times he'd done it, but there was something different when she knew what he had planned for the future.

With a gentle nudge, he tilted her head upwards—the angle to make it more comfortable for the two of them for their height difference, something she forgot often—and she swallowed nervously just before he pressed his lips against hers.

It was only because of his cold breath that she knew that was what it was.

His lips were soft, surprisingly. They were cold, yes, but they weren't dry, chapped, or so unbelievingly different in temperature that it would make her recoil from shock—rather, it was as though he'd been outside in the cold for a while, whereas she'd been inside the whole time.

As he tentatively kissed her, Marinette's lips curled into a fond smile. Even with how awkward it was between them at that moment, he was anything but a terror, nothing like he'd been in the beginning. As his hand gently cradled her jawline, his thumb tracing circles on her skin just below her ear, she enthusiastically responded to the kiss, trying to convey through actions alone that it was okay.

It definitely didn't feel like she was kissing someone dead.

Adrien held her close throughout it, seeming so human and alive as their teeth accidentally clashed at one point, his breath mingling with hers, and she enjoyed every second of it. The way he paused every now and then, allowing the two of them to take in a deep breath and make sure that it was fully consensually made her heart seem to flutter in something other than nerves, and as she put her weight onto her toes and leaned up to wrap her arms happily around his neck, she idly ran her fingers through the hairs on the nape of his neck.

In that moment, it was easy to forget the differences between them.

Marinette was the one to boldly bite his lower lip, silent asking for more, and she was delighted and surprised when he complied easily, a noise of approval escaping him as she gently swiped her tongue against his.

It was a little startling that he was cold.

But it was enjoyable. Her face felt warm and there was a heat present in her stomach, spiralling lower and became apparent in a way that wasn't very common, not when she knew that she had company just through the door in the living room. Marinette didn't indulge herself often, and as Adrien pulled her closer so their chests were touching, she was starting to question that choice.

It suddenly didn't seem to daunting to do anything for him.

Keeping her eyes closed, Marinette extracted her arms from around his neck, trailing her fingertips down the material of his shirt, feeling her way down until she came into contact with the waistband of his jeans. Wondering whether it would work—she'd never _asked_ if she'd have the ability to alter him in any way—she fiddled with the button until it came undone, pulling the zip down, not quite as uncomfortable about the lack of noise as she'd thought she would be.

And when she was able to tug his jeans down below his hips, she got her answer.

Adrien kissed her enthusiastically the whole time.

His underwear soon joined the rest, surely pooling around his knees, or maybe lower, and it was with him guiding her towards the bed that she assumed that he'd stepped out of them completely. It was hard to keep her eyes shut the entire time when her instincts were telling her to look, to see whether his face was in a similar state to hers, but her thoughts were able to keep up with those feelings, reminding her that Adrien wasn't normal.

It was when her head was against the pillows that they stopped kissing. She missed the absence of his cold body against hers as he pulled away, but she didn't protest to his movements.

The first thing other than her to make noise was the foil wrapper as it was opened.

She really didn't want to open her eyes, truly, but she couldn't help it. Before she could fully comprehend what the noise was, she'd opened them to look around curiously, only to see Adrien in the process of putting it on—

She burst out laughing.

"That's—" Marinette choked out, putting her hands over her face as she tried to control her amusement, but it was just so _weird_.

Him flicking her thigh made her laugh even more.

"I'm sorry," she said, not sounding like she meant it at all. "I'm not laughing at you—actually, I kind of am. I just never expected to see a floating condom, that's all."

The whiteboard wasn't picked up again.

"It..." Marinette cleared her throat. "It might be easier with me on top?"

There wasn't any rejection to that. As she knew she'd burst out laughing again if she opened her eyes, Adrien helped to guide her so she was straddling him. It was a strange situation to be in, definitely, but when her legs were on either side of his thighs, his cold skin against her own as she rested her weight onto him, she was able to steady herself and put her hands onto his chest to give herself a sense of direction.

She was able to feel that he'd taken off his shirt.

She swallowed. "I better win a best friend award for this, you know."

Running his fingers along her bare thighs, Adrien's hands slipped underneath her nightdress, resting on her thighs comfortably before he squeezed gently to give her a response.

And she didn't have any complaints about that. It felt nice to be touched like that, and Adrien was someone that she cared about and knew felt the same in return about her, so it didn't make her feel uncomfortable.

It was her turn to ask, "Can I kiss you again?"

Pushing her hair over her shoulder, Adrien pulled her down slowly, directing her towards his face, and Marinette grinned as his lips pressed against hers eagerly. It wasn't as tentative as the last; rather, it was a lot more heated as Adrien enthusiastically kissed her, her heated breath mingling with his, breaths coming fast within a small matter of time.

Adrien trailed his tongue over her lower lip in a silence question.

Leaning into him with a hum of approval, ever-so-pleased that he'd stuck with asking permission for things in different ways, Marinette trailed one of the hands down his chest until it dipped down to his waist, guiding lower to grasp at his arousal, squeezing gently before moving her hand a few times experimentally.

It was only then that she remembered that she mattered, too.

Pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, a sign that they were stopping for the time being, Marinette whispered, "Hang on."

The hand that had been on him went beneath her nightdress, trailing over her cleft, not at all embarrassed about the wetness that had accumulated there. It was a reminder that she was able to find him attractive despite their differences, something that she'd been worried about in the beginning (that, and him being her friend).

Marinette pressed a fingertip inside herself at first, gently easing the rest in before slowly bringing it out. There wasn't much resistance due to her arousal, but there was a little tinge of pain as she slipped a second finger inside, stretching herself out the best that she could from that position.

She was absolutely aware of her breaths, though she had to wonder whether his would've sounded similar if she was able to hear them. As her fingers slipped inside, the wet sound filling the room, was could feel his hands on her hips shifting, and the thought that he was watching her as she did something so intimate had her face warming up considerably.

The nightdress didn't do much to hide it when he'd pushed it up onto her hips, surely pooling on top of his hands.

When Adrien's nose—or what she thought it was—bumped against hers, she didn't jump, which was surprising. She eagerly accepted the kiss that was offered, pressing her lips to his as she gently removed her fingers, wiping them on her duvet before she reached down to grasp onto his arousal again.

As he wasn't pulling away, she was taking it was confirmation to continue. Marinette put her weight onto her knees, lifting herself up and guiding his arousal towards her entrance, sucking in a sharp breath as she pushed down slowly until she was sitting down on his thighs once more.

Adrien was still beneath her, his fingernails digging into her skin.

Taking her time, she sat upright, breathing out audibly.

The pain wasn't too much. After taking a while to adjust, shifting to get a more comfortable position, Marinette experimentally moved her hips, rocking into him and causing him to tense beneath her.

"Are you okay?" she asked, voice raspy.

From her hips, he smoothed his hands over her backside, fingertips roaming over the skin that was covered from her nightdress, and she took him squeezing her as an answer.

After pushing her damp hair over her shoulder, Marinette's hands found their way to his chest for a sense of stability again, and she put her weight on him as she raised her hips before sinking back down, taking in a harsh intake of breath from the influx of sensations. The heat was pooling in her stomach was travelling lower still, the pulse between her legs loud and demanding, able to be felt throughout her body, and the coldness of his body felt wonderful against her own.

Marinette moaned in appreciation as she continued to move, and as Adrien rocked his hips up to meet her, her reaction was definitely audible.

His hands went back to her hips, seeming to guide her as she continued to move, the sound of her slick skin hitting his filling the room along with her moans. And with every move of his hips, his pelvis brushed against her protrusion, offering a new set of sensations that felt wonderful.

She was absolutely sure she was louder than the creaky pipes at that moment.

Her hands went from his chest to pressing against the mattress beside where she assumed his head to be, almost collapsing on top of him as the strain on her thighs become apparent. Adrien didn't protest, though; he readily accepted the small change of position, rocking up into her at a inconsistent pace.

It was her choice to bury her face into the crook of his neck, delighted when she didn't have much difficulty finding it. Her lips pressed against the bare skin there, teeth sometimes brushing against him when there was a particularly hard thrust that had her body moving.

It was a really nice experience.

Her moans were getting louder as she got closer to finishing; the heat within her abdomen was building up, and her breaths were harsh and able to be heard clearly.

When she moaned his name, the sound was muffled from her sucking on the part of his neck that she'd been kissing.

She'd been far too preoccupied with how great it felt to be with him to pay attention to anything else. After all, it hadn't felt any different to how it had a moment ago, so it was only when she absent-mindedly opened her eyes as she shifted to get into a better position that she realised that there was yellow within her vision.

Startled, she stilled.

There was definitely something different.

The cold skin that she was feeling was close to her own shade and it definitely didn't have any wrinkles. Marinette scrambled to sit up, far too shocked to make any more than a choking noise that made Adrien realise that something was wrong.

And as he opened his eyes, she was even more thrown off as she sat upright, meeting his gaze that was framed by thick eyelashes.

She'd never given his eyelashes any thought.

Thankfully, he'd stopped when he realised something was wrong, but she was still sitting on his hips with his arousal inside of her, meaning that heat flooded her cheeks as he squeezed her in a silent.

But she was able to see as he furrowed his brow.

He had _eyebrows_.

"Adrien?" Marinette asked, her voice coming out high-pitched. "I— _what_?"

It wasn't a eloquent question at all, but being able to see his reaction on his expression was absolutely bewildering.

And then, as her eyes stayed focused on his face—trying hard not to flicker down to see his naked body without his consent—she suddenly became aware that her breaths weren't the only ones that were audible.

There was so much she could've said, but she ended up blurting out, "I can see you."

He blinked. "You can?"

That was even stranger. Marinette gaped, absolutely lost on what reaction to have to that. For almost two _years_ she'd been without seeing him, hearing him, and in a matter of minutes that had all changed.

From the blond hair that touched his eyebrows and brushed the top of his ears to the voice that was nothing like what she'd imagined, she was caught with the thought that he really didn't look that much older than her.

That was a relief, at least.

But then there was the matter that he was still inside her.

It wasn't her proudest moment, but Marinette hastily lifted herself off of him, almost falling over as she jumped out of the bed, and she narrowly avoided tripping over the suddenly visible clothes that were on her floor as she ran to the bathroom. She slammed the door shut behind her, heart hammering in her chest as she used the lock, aware that he was calling her name.

Sinking down to the floor, the coldness of the tiles not welcome against her skin, Marinette let out a loud breath as she asked, "What the fuck?"

-x-

It was easier to face Adrien when he was dressed.

As she'd predicted, he was wearing jeans, but the style of his long-sleeved t-shirt was modern. It was awkward at first when she wandered out of the bathroom—long after she'd wiped herself clean, too embarrassed to face him straight away while she was still damp—but Adrien was dressed and sat on the sofa in his designated spot.

"Hello," he offered, raising a hand to wave at her.

It was such an awkward-looking move that she couldn't help but laugh.

Adrien was—he was strange, that was the best way to put it. He was her best friend when he didn't have a voice or a face, and when he'd gained them out of nowhere, she felt so overwhelmed and confused on how to act around him. Perhaps, it was because his facial features were so attractive—along with the rest of him—that it caught her off-guard for a while, or simply because everything that she'd known about him had been rewritten from one simple act.

They hadn't even _finished_.

Her voice cracked as she replied, "Hi."

The nervous that left her seemed to echo in the room.

Seeing Adrien's expressions was absolutely fascinating. From the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the inflections in his voice when he spoke, and the almost musical sound of his laugh was all something that she'd never considered.

In all the backstories that she'd potentially made for him, she'd never imagined him to be so perfect-looking.

"You're really attractive," Marinette blurted, well aware that she still wasn't wearing any underwear.

Adrien's grin was wide, showing that he had dimples on his cheeks. "And is that a problem?"

It was so different to actually hear him. "How—how is this possible?" she asked, staying near the bathroom door, leaning against the wall instead of going over to sit beside him. For a while, she wanted to keep the distance between them.

"I didn't tell you in case it got your hopes up," he revealed, and even the sound of his voice was attractive. The man in front of her had been living with her for almost two years, they'd done countless things together, but it was suddenly dawning on her what could've been since her other sense was being included fully in his presence, rather than just seeing floating items. "Thank you for helping me, Marinette."

She coughed into her hand. "My pleasure, I guess."

"I'm sure." His smile reached his eyes.

There was no good comeback that she could think of at that moment for that. Instead, Marinette was well aware of the redness of her face.

Of all the things he could've said to follow that up, she certainly wasn't expecting him to casually lean against the arm of the sofa, his cheek resting in his palm, as he asked, "Will you believe me if I say I like you now?"

Her heart beat loudly in her chest. "I—what?"

"You didn't believe me before," he pointed out, raising his eyebrows. "But now... I'm more suitable now, am I not?"

An Adrien that could reply quicker and actually put emotions into his voice was a force to be reckoned with. Marinette was absolutely sure she made a confused noise as she nervously ran a hand through her hair, not surprised that it had dried completely. "It wasn't never about that."

There was no hurt in his voice as he enquired, "Are you sure?"

She wasn't really.

There had never been the thought of a romance working out between them, but—but she _did_ like him. Adrien was the one that she'd choose to spend time with rather than going on dates with countless others through the years, her closest friend, and person that had wormed their way fully into her heart. There wasn't anyone that she trusted more than him, and she hadn't been kidding when she'd admitted that she wouldn't mind sleeping with him.

And the fact that she'd enjoyed back that up (at least, until she'd panicked and ran away).

But she'd never seen his actions as romantic, not in her eyes.

"Have you—I mean," Marinette paused, adjusting the weight on her weight, her body language conveying her nervousness. "Do you still have feelings for me?"

"Yes," he admitted without missing a beat. "Is it not obvious?"

It shouldn't been obvious from the way he brushed hair out of her face or cupped her cheek when she was feeling sad, but she hadn't seen it in that light. Maybe, she'd just convinced herself that it wasn't that way between them after rejecting him gently the first time—it hadn't really crossed her mind that she was leading him on in any way.

She owed it to him to be honest, though. "I don't know." And when it became clear from his stare that she needed to elaborate further, she added on, "About my feelings for you... I don't know."

His smile showed the indents on his cheeks. "That's better than before."

"I think I need a while to process this." She gestured between them. "The whole you having a body thing. I'm actually convinced I'm fucking mad right now."

"You're not," he assured her, reaching up and brushing some of his hair out of his eyes. "I've always had a body, but it's only visible to you now—we're tied."

To show her understanding, she nodded. "But your... I don't understand why your clothes are so strange-looking?"

Adrien looked down at them briefly before his gaze flickered back to her curiously. "What's wrong with them?"

"Didn't you die years ago?" she blurted.

A half-hearted laugh escaped him as he waved his free hand dismissively. "It's not anything like that. I take on the clothing of what you find the most appropriate."

That wasn't the type of answer that she was expecting. "I'm sorry, what?" Marinette questioned, brow furrowed. "I—but you're _dead_. How does that work?"

"How does sacrificing a virgin work?" he shot back. "Also, wonderful work with the loophole. I'm proud of you."

It was her turn to let out the insincere laugh. "Thank you?"

"You're most welcome." Sometimes, it seemed his speech reverted back to how he used to write, back before she'd taught him what was frequently used for those amongst her age. "Would you like me to stay out here for the evening?"

She took a step towards the bedroom. "Well, you're definitely not sharing my bed."

"Not without permission," he pointed out. "Besides, you're looking at me like I'm about to eat you. Relax, Marinette. We're friends."

"Friends who just had sex," she retorted before she could think better of it. With a shocked noise, Marinette put a hand over her mouth, stopping herself from adding anything else on.

To her surprise, Adrien threw his head back and laughed. When he'd recovered, smiling wide as he looked at her so fondly that she could even see it across the room, he mused, "We can do it again, if you'd like."

"I—no, no," she hastily said, shaking her head as she edged towards her bedroom. "I'm just... I'm going to hide in my bedroom and try and find my sanity for a bit. If I'm really not mad, I'll see you tomorrow."

She could hear him laughing when she closed her bedroom door.

And when the morning came, she walked quietly out into the living room to find Adrien lounging across the sofa with her laptop on the coffee table in front of him. It was the first time that she was able to see that he was tall enough for his feet to hang off of the end when he was stretched out.

It wasn't too small for her.

And when he caught sight of her, his smile was brilliant.

Having an Adrien that could talk was certainly a lot different than before. The whiteboard was hung up the wall of the kitchen, her grocery list written upon it rather than the post-it notes, and he seemed almost hyperactive as he constantly followed a few steps behind her, actively talking and waiting for her to reply.

It was vastly different to his short replies when he was writing.

"I hate writing," he explained, wrinkling his nose. "It's only fun when I'm writing warning messages in blood. But that gets terribly boring after a while—it's in almost all the films nowadays, too, so it loses a lot of the impact. I got fed up with my victims thinking I was joking."

He was a lot more honest, too.

"But I like you," he pointed out while they were watching something together, sitting on opposite ends of the couch. "Are you only being like this because you want me to do some grand romantic gesture?"

She felt almost dizzy from the change of his moods. Sometimes, he was peppy and happy, while others his smiles seemed almost sultry, the flirtatious comments coming from his lips bad for her heart and causing her to stutter as she tried to reply to him.

"Stop," she muttered, clutching a pillow against her chest. "You're—we spoke about boundaries before, didn't we? I'm still thinking."

Since he'd become visible, she didn't feel comfortable enough to lounge all over him as she had done in the past. It was different since she was actually able to _see_ him breathe, and he was well aware of the effect that he had on her.

He winked. "You already know you like one part of me."

She threw the pillow at him. "Stop picking up bad habits!"

Adrien laughed, tossing the pillow back at her. "You never seem to mind it when romantic interests use them in fiction."

The transfer—she was choosing to call it that, rather than anything else—had caused him to grow stronger. Adrien was able to do more than opening doors since he'd become visible, meaning his strength matched how strong his body looked, like a normal person.

"Because they're not real," she muttered, crossing her arms stubbornly.

The look in his eyes grew soft. "Does that mean I am?"

"Of course you are," Marinette replied without missing a beat. "You're here with me, aren't you?"

The whole week before her classes started, Adrien stayed inside the apartment. The first time that he went outside was when she'd put her backpack on and had started towards the front door, sleepily not comprehending that he was able to walk out with her.

She almost jumped when he walked into the stairwell with her.

"I have high expectations for your classes," he mused as they started down the first set of creaky stairs.

She looked at him dubiously. "If I give you new clothes, would everyone just seeing them floating?"

He laughed, the sound seeming to echo around them. "Yes, they would. Mine aren't capable of getting dirty, so there's no reason to."

"I don't understand how you work." The stairwell was stuffy and had no windows that would open, and even at the end of the summer, it was terrible. "Really, I don't. I'm able to walk into you but you don't even get dirty?"

Adrien just raised his eyebrows at her. "You should stop expecting me to be a normal human."

It didn't help that she also knew that she wasn't able to alter his appearance, not really; there had been no mark on his neck from when they were together, and other than musing his hair and fiddling with his clothing, she couldn't do anything to him.

"It's weird," she blurted, shaking her head. "I don't understand a thing."

"Stop trying to, then," he suggested. "Humour me instead."

It turned out that taking Adrien to her classes was an utter mistake. While he couldn't sit beside her in some classes, he'd chose to stick close—either on the desk or standing beside her if the seat was taken—and made simply stared at her for the duration of it. Marinette felt under pressure to make sure her notes were all correct at first, conscious of his gaze, and it was extremely awkward.

She would've preferred it if he'd tried to talk to her.

And after she'd relayed that to him on her way to the next classroom, Adrien took that as a signal to announce all of his thoughts while her professor spoke, being much more a distraction when his staring was combined with him talking.

She felt like she was going a little bit crazy.

"I need to concentrate," Marinette pleaded, running a hand quickly through her hair. "Can you—I don't know, maybe go somewhere for a bit? Explore and meet me at home at the usual time."

To his credit, he didn't appear to be upset.

Marinette did feel bad about it, though.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you," she apologised later on, feeling worse when his lips curled into a smile. "It wasn't because I hate spending time with you—please, don't think that. I just really need to pass my classes."

Adrien reached out and put his hand gently on top of hers. "It's fine," he assured her, voice as soft as his cold touch. "It was never my intention to distract you. I found it fascinating to watch you, that's all."

She shifted in her seat, embarrassed. "That sounds weird when you say it like that."

"But I like watching you," he repeated, knitting his eyebrows together. "I always have."

"Yeah, but people don't usually say that."

He snorted. "I'm honest because I care about you. I don't see the problem with that."

Along with the flirtatious remarks, he was still very forward with his feelings. While Marinette found it too awkward to cuddle up to him when they were together in her apartment, it didn't mean that she didn't finally take advantage of being able to see him.

She frequently hugged him when he had a good suggestion, hit his arm lightly in response to his comments, or just leaned against him as she laughed—the usual things that she'd do with a friend.

And in return, he continued to treat her the same as before, seeming not to be upset when she pulled away, a blush across her face from feeling embarrassed about how close they were at times.

Their boundaries weren't really clear, but he was respecting her want for space. Adrien didn't venture into her bedroom without permission, hadn't pushed her for a kiss or anything else since they'd spoken before.

It was still strange to think about.

Adrien was—he was everything that she was looking for in someone, really. From the way he treated her, to how fun he was to be around, and how he made her feel when she smiled at him fondly, she knew that the only thing stopping her from accepting his confession was the differences between them.

It wasn't as though they could go on dates when only one of them was visible. Marinette had tied to hold her cell phone against her ear when they walked outside, so she wouldn't be looked at so strangely for talking to thin air, but it hadn't gone well when she'd been so startled from her phone ringing that she'd dropped it and cracked the screen.

It cut into her savings to have it fixed the following weekend.

When they were at home, it was just the two of them. Marinette loved it, but she did want to share food with someone, to experience all the human things in life—the stuff that he couldn't do.

But she couldn't hold that against him. It wasn't his fault that he'd died and turned into some kind of a ghost that she didn't understand—it still baffled her how he was able to interact with anything at all—but she didn't think she was being too harsh from wanting to think her decision through.

But he didn't think the same.

"Do I make you happy?" Adrien asked, voice barely louder than the volume on her laptop.

They were seated together, sat upright and leaning back against the cushions with the laptop on the coffee table. It was one of the most formal ways that they'd sat together, reminiscent to how they'd been in the beginning.

She hadn't thought that he'd ever think to ask that. "You do," she confirmed, turning towards him with widened eyes. "Why would you ask that?"

"Well," he started, resting an elbow on the arm of the chair and putting his chin onto his palm. "You hug me, but you sit so far away now. Have I done something wrong?"

A guilty feeling coiled in her stomach tightly. "It's not you, it's—"

"Isn't that a really cliché phrase?" he quipped. "You always hate that when it's said."

Marinette chose to reach forward and pause the film that they were watching, wanting to give him her full attention. And when she turned to face him, she'd scooted over and pulled one of her legs up onto the sofa, so their knees were almost touching from their close distance.

"You make me happy," she insisted, tucking some stray hairs behind her ear. "Happier than anyone else, I promise. I'm sorry for being so distant lately."

His gaze flickered away from her. "Do you regret helping me?"

" _Never_." It was a horrifying thought. Marinette reached out and gently put her hand onto his knee, causing him to look at her in surprise. "Adrien, I'd never regret that. I'd still do anything for you, including some minor illegal things. That's how much I love you."

"Love?" he queried, his smile was half-hearted, not large enough to show the indents on his cheeks. "Are you referring to the platonic kind?"

It was a jab at how she'd rejected him at first, she knew. With only a little bit of hesitation, Marinette made the decision to reply softly, "I wouldn't have sex with someone I considered a brother."

"Oh?" His smile grew lopsided, more sincere. "Who would you, then?"

He was giving her a chance to take it back, to mend her words and make an actual decision. But despite the setbacks, the way that they couldn't be together in public without something most likely going wrong, she couldn't find it in herself to give up because of that, not when she liked him as much as she did.

Sure, she didn't know how deep of a romantic love it was, but there was no denying that she was attracted to his personality, along with the appearance that had only just become an attribute for him.

The wailing of the child in the apartment beside her could be heard through the silence. Adrien hadn't moved closer to her at all, was still leaning on his hand and looking at her almost coyly, and it was her that had moved towards him, rather than away as she had for the past couple of weeks.

"You," she confessed, a shy smile appearing on her lips. "And only you."

His smile was bright.

Marinette cleared her throat. "Want to hear my reply?"

"Yes," he replied without hesitation.

She tucked her legs underneath her.

"I like you in a non-platonic way," Marinette started, aware that it was the strangest confession that she'd probably ever give. "I'm not—I'm not saying this _because_ of your looks, but because I can actually look at you now. I'd really like to date you, Adrien."

There was blond on the end of his eyelashes. "Date?"

"You know." She gestured vaguely to the laptop. "Love things. I know that—that we probably can't do much, but I'd be happy just to kiss you, honestly."

The child was still screaming.

Even though she knew that he wasn't going to reject her, not when he'd stuck around after being able to leave, Adrien's reply still came as a surprise to her. "That sounds nice."

She smiled bashfully. "Really?"

"Really," he echoed, dimples showing. "I only have myself to live up to, right?"

She resisted the urge to kick him. "And my expectations."

With a laugh, he pointed out, "You didn't seem to mind too much last time—"

Marinette cut him off with a distressed noise, crossing her arms stubbornly over her chest. "I'm not jumping back into bed with you—that was a favour, remember? I absolutely want to take this slow."

He made a thoughtful noise. "Does that mean I can't kiss you?"

"You need to earn it first," she replied haughtily.

"Difficult," Adrien teased. "I'll try my best."

-x-

"Hey, hey," Marinette scolded with a laugh, adjusting her position to hug him easier, readily pressing her cheek against his chest as she stumbled into the living room, shutting the front door behind her with her foot. "What's got you in such a good mood?"

Since the first day he'd joined her at university, Adrien hadn't come again. Sometimes, he walked onto the campus with her and chose which classes he wanted to experience for that day, or he walked around the neighbourhood and kept what he was doing a secret, but he always made it back to stand by the front door of their apartment and waited for her to come home.

While other times, he stayed home the entire day (mostly, it was when she left her laptop behind for him to occupy himself with), and either greeted her happily at the front door or was curled up under the duvet of her bed, even after gaining the visibility of his body back.

Some things never changed.

"I'm just happy to see you," he murmured, holding her close enough that she could make out his heartbeat through the thin material of his t-shirt.

She grinned. "Cute."

"That's why you're dating me," he quipped.

"Oh, definitely," Marinette agreed with a laugh.

And, somehow, his happy mood turned into something else. Along the way of her returning—after changing out of her casual clothes into pyjamas to get more comfortable—and happily stepping into his open arms as he hovered in the kitchen, clearly wanting something, something changed from their usual hugs.

Maybe it was the way his hand ran down her back, daringly going lower and brushing over her backside for a moment, or the way his cool breath felt against her skin as he told her the little that he did with his day.

It ended up with her back against the sofa, head resting on a cushion so it wouldn't be too uncomfortable, with her legs wrapped around his shoulders.

It might've been the infectious sound of his laughter before he placed chaste kisses onto her neck in response to something she'd said, but she wasn't too concerned with finding out the explanation.

Her underwear was on the floor beside them.

Marinette's eyes were closed, lips parted silently as he placed the first teasing kiss along her thighs, making his way upwards.

All he'd had to say was, "Can I show you how happy I am?"

She never would've of seen it coming, and even if she had, she'd been given the chance to reject him when he'd trailed his hands up her thighs, squeezing her backside in appreciation as he continued to press kisses into her neck, but Marinette hadn't felt intimidated by his advances—rather, she quite enjoyed it, which was why she'd consented to it in the first place.

"Don't tease me," she murmured, purposely lifting her hips up to make it easier for him.

She hadn't felt embarrassed as he kneeled down on the floor next to the sofa, or when he'd gently moved her into a more accessible position, fingertips running along her legs and pushing up her nightdress until it was bunched up by her hips.

"I'd never," he replied, and she could feel his breath against her as he spoke.

Then, as he'd said, Adrien pressed his lips against her cleft, taking a moment before running his tongue along her, avoiding the one place that she wanted him to touch first. His touches were fleeting and teasing, purposely not everything that she was looked for.

With a frustrated noise, Marinette shifted her hips again, hoping that she wasn't being too forceful, and with a laugh, Adrien complied and gently enveloped her protrusion with his lips.

It was a nice sensation.

He sucked gently, not being too hard or causing her to want to pull away, and she moaned in appreciation.

Reaching down, she ran her fingers through his hair, choosing to hold onto him rather than the cushion that she was resting her hand on, and she breathed out loudly at every chance she could, overwhelmed from the sensations that were coursing through her.

The sound that escaped her was loud when he sucked particularly hard.

As his tongue darted out at a steady pace, Marinette was more than aware of the feeling of his cold breath against her heated skin, the way his skin felt against hers, and it was such a contrast that heightened the experience and made it better than she'd ever imagined.

The heat within her abdomen was demanding, swirling lower and being the tell-tale sign that she was close, and the pulse between her legs was echoed in her bed, beating fast and almost obnoxiously. She squeezed her legs around him, not surprised when his hands smoothed over the flesh of her thighs, a shudder running through her from the feeling.

The quiet moans that were coming from her because so much louder when he gently entered her, the addition a welcome one when it was combined with his tongue lazily trailing over her sensitive nub. There was a wet sound as he eased it in, and Marinette grasped onto his hair tightly, lifting her hips further in search of the pleasurable feeling.

And as he started to scissor her slowly, his finger darting within her easily from the wetness that had accumulated from his actions, she was absolutely sure that she moaned his name. A second digit soon joined in, Adrien scissoring her at a slow pace that didn't match his tongue, and her eyes were scrunched together as she panted, her heart hammering wildly in her chest.

With a choked noise, she shuddered against him. Her muscles clenched, the hand that was in his hair squeezing as she sucked in a harsh breath.

She was breathing heavily when pressed a chaste kiss to her wetness before pulling back, and she opened her eyes to see that he was still seated on the floor.

The shy smile that she gave him was mirrored.

"Hi," she said, clearing her throat.

To his credit, he didn't laugh. Adrien sounded as fond of her as he looked when he replied, "Hello."

She was the one to burst out laughing at that. Adrien followed soon after, barely a few seconds passing in which only she was audible, and when she'd recovered, she turned and slipped off of the sofa, settling down beside him on the floor as she wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him into an embrace.

"I'm not counting that as our first kiss," she muttered.

She could feel it as he laughed, but it was so much better when she was able to hear him. "But we've already done that."

"Not as a couple," Marinette pointed out petulantly. "It matters, of course."

The pat he gave to her back seemed mocking. "I'm sure."

"Shut up." There was no heat to her words. "You're lucky you're cute."

Adrien didn't hesitate to reply, "We've established that's the only reason you're dating me."

Pressing her face further into his neck, she mumbled, "I don't want to kiss you now, you're too smug."

"I do feel quite smug," he admitted. "I didn't think you'd let me do that—so, thank you."

Her face still felt hot. "You're thanking me for letting you lick me?"

"Oh, I did more than that." And if she'd been able to see his face, he absolutely would've winked at her. "Did I not earn the right to kiss you?"

It was ridiculous how fond of him she was. They could've been talking about anything—any silly topic that she could've thought of—and she was sure that he would've been able to make her laugh. There was something special about him, and she was utterly drawn to his happiness.

She really wanted to keep his smile to herself.

It was a selfish need, she knew, but it wasn't as though he had anyone else that he could go off to. The smug pride that she felt from being able to get through to him had never quite disappeared, and she never wanted it to, not when he smiled so brightly her way and confessed his feelings—things he never would've done in the beginning.

There was no denying that she was utterly gone for him.

"You did," Marinette admitted, sitting upright and wasting no time in pressing her lips against his.

It was as cold as the first time. It wasn't enough to make her recoil in shock, and although it wasn't during the blistering heat of the summer, it was still quite warm in the autumn. Marinette didn't shiver as he enthusiastically responded and reached up to cup her face with his hand, his thumb tracing soothing patterns by her jawline as they kissed.

She wasn't nervous about doing anything wrong.

Adrien knew her—he knew all her bad sides, how stubborn she was at the worst of times, and he'd confessed to her another time knowing all of that about her. The warmth in her chest wasn't from nerves; rather, it was from happiness as she leaned closer, pressing their chests together as she tilted her head upwards to get a better angle.

She didn't care about the wetness between her legs.

Later on, the news explained the silence in the apartment.

"Marinette," Adrien had called, and she'd pausing from cooking her dinner, wandering over to see what he wanted.

A news article was visible on the screen.

It didn't seem like anything at first. Accidents were common in the city, something that couldn't be avoided, but it was only when she scrolled down to the pictures of the grieving family that she realised why he'd called her over at all.

"That's—" Marinette cut herself off, horrified.

It was her neighbours.

A child had been killed in a hit-and-run accident. Some witnesses stated that the mother hadn't been holding onto the child's hand, and the child and taken the chance to run into the road from being unattended, while others stated that the mother just hadn't been able to stop them.

The child had been killed on impact.

While she wasn't on good terms with the parents, and cursed the child underneath her breath when they screamed while she was trying to be asleep, she'd never wanted anything bad to happen to them (maybe just for them to get tonsillitis).

"I wondered why it was quiet," Adrien mused, echoing her thoughts.

She didn't know what to do when someone she knew died, let alone a family that she wasn't on friendly terms with.

She settled with quietly saying, "That's terrible."

He made a noise of agreement.

-x-

Adrien's idea of a date was for the two of them to play a board game together.

He'd purposely sat himself on the other side of the coffee table, the two of them as far apart as the could be, and had the instructions leaflet placed beside him.

It wasn't terrible.

When Marinette had said that she'd wanted to go slow, he seemed to think his actions when he was happy before didn't count. Bemused, she allowed him to choose what they'd do for their first date—as he called it himself—and when he said that they wouldn't be doing anything sexual as they'd only kissed, she didn't try and correct him.

He was cute.

Marinette lost horribly after an hour.

"Do you want to do something else?" he question, elbows on the table as his hands were cupping his face. He seemed to be the face of innocence, but after he'd tricked her and won, she wasn't going to believe that. "You can choose."

She looked at him dubiously. "I can?"

"Loser's choice," he felt the need to say.

Marinette pulled a face at that. "That's just mean."

"I love you, loser." It was the first time he'd said it to her, and the fact that it wasn't ruined by the name-calling was amusing.

"You can't confess your love on a first date," Marinette stated, pointing her index finger at him accusingly. "We've educated you with enough films for you to understand that."

He winked. "Those are all with humans."

Sticking her tongue out childishly, she retorted, "You're a dead human, it counts."

"Am I?" Adrien grinned.

"Yes," she confirmed. "Loser's choice, right?"

He nodded.

Boldly, Marinette chose to tug her t-shirt off over her head, tossing it on the floor beside her, not bothering to fold it, without breaking eye contact with him.

The shocked look on his expression was more than worth it.

She grinned.

For a moment, she wondered whether she'd made the wrong decision—surely, he understood what she was trying to initiate from all the trashy films that they'd watched together—before he responded in kind, pulling his own shirt off and tossing it on top of hers.

They'd already been dating for a month. Adrien had just wanted to make it seem more official and have a date night, as he called it, despite her saying that it wasn't necessary. They already did a lot together from living in the same apartment and spending all their time together, but he insisted that he wanted to replicate something that he'd seen before.

Then again, she was sure that all the films with board games and romance usually ended up the same way.

She chose to undo her brassiere next, sucking in a sharp breath as the cold air greeted her newly exposed skin, and she was well aware that it was the first time that Adrien would be seeing her fully naked. All the other times she'd kept her pyjamas on, her breasts being covered the whole time.

As he wasn't wearing the same piece of clothing, she burst out laughing when Adrien took his socks off in return (his shoes were by the door where her were, as they had been ever since he'd become visible).

By the time the two of them were only in their underwear, Marinette had stood up and offered her hand out to him. He'd taken it without hesitation, and when they'd crossed through to the bedroom, she'd tugged her last piece of clothing down, kicking it off onto the rug that was under her bed.

Adrien kissed her passionately after he'd removed his own.

Marinette's hand wandered down his chest as his tongue slipped inside her mouth, a hum of approval leaving her as she wrapped a hand around his member, moving her hand lazily, not fast enough to give him all the pleasure that she could've.

It was when he pushed his hips against her that she took the silent message to stop teasing. Instead, she pressed a last chaste kiss to his reddened lips before gesturing for him to sit on the edge of the bed, happily getting down onto her knees between his legs, the material of the rug soft to touch against here exposed skin.

Marinette closed her eyes and licked the tip of his member at first, curious about what the temperature would feel like in her mouth, before slowly taking him fully into her mouth. Carefully, she started to bob her head, sucking gently and applying enough pleasure to make him moan in appreciation, and as his hands ran through her hair, gripping on the roots in a way that wasn't uncomfortable, she hummed around him.

The moan that that caused was definitely positive.

She wrapped her hand around the bottom of his arousal, the part that she couldn't get completely with her mouth, and moved to match the sloppy rhythm of her mouth. His member was slick at that point, making it easy for her to glide across his length and sometimes swipe her tongue across him in the process, and she was slowly gaining confidence with her movements.

It was when her jaw was starting to hurt that he rasped, "Wait."

Marinette opened her eyes and stared up at him as she slowly pulled away, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

There was a pleasant blush to his cheeks that wasn't there before.

Soon, she found herself with her head against her pillows, arms wrapped around his shoulder as he climbed on top of her, his hands on her thighs as she placed them over his hips, trying to find a comfortable position.

Adrien started to press soft kisses to her neck, the spot he'd chosen a sensitive one that made her squirm.

Letting go of her hip with one hand, he guided his arousal to her, pulling his head back to look her in the eyes for approval before continuing. It was a small action, but it was one that made her feel warm inside—much more than the arousal that truly apparent at that moment—and she consented with a wide smile.

He pushed inside her slowly.

Marinette moaned at the feeling, utterly thankful as he waited when he was situated fully within her, trying hard not to move. She didn't even have to tell him to wait, and that was something else that she appreciated about him.

"I love you," she murmured, using the arms hooked around his shoulders to raise herself up and press a kiss to his cheek.

His smile was brilliant. "You can't say that on a first date."

"I can when you're not human," she teased.

Adrien went back to holding her hips. "About time you realised that."

And before she could reply, he pulled out until only the tip before rocking back inside her, causing a surprised moan to escape her. It was just him teasing, though; Adrien continued his movements, starting a rhythm that was almost consistent as he thrust into her, and she tried to raise her hips to try and meet him, eyes closed and lips parted from the pleasure.

The sound of slick skin filled the room in a matter of moments, along with her breathy moans, and she wasn't embarrassed about how she was feeling. While it wasn't too different to how they'd been before, the feelings that she had for him were; with every brush of his skin against hers, the closeness between them, she wanted to pull him closer and try and convey exactly how much she appreciated him.

She had to settle for burying her face into his neck, the sounds that were coming from her not quite muffled.

She moaned his name.

His pelvis brushed against protrusion with every thrust, the added sensation causing the spiralling heat to travel lower and become more known, and her nails would've been leaving little half-moon shapes if he was normal—but just like the spot of his neck that she'd sucked last time, it wouldn't appear on his skin.

It made her not worry so much about hurting him.

Marinette shuddered, legs tightening around him, and it was after a couple more thrusts that she was able to feel him shake as he slumped against her. She placed soft kisses to his neck as he recovered, breaths matching her own, and she noticed immediately that he wasn't sweaty like she was.

It didn't make her feel self-conscious, though.

Adrien pulled out slowly, wincing as he did so, and she tried to be as still as possible due to his sensitivity. When she sat up and felt the wetness between her legs, she looked down curiously at some of the liquid that had seeped onto the duvet below her.

"I have a question," she announced as he rolled over beside her, not bothering to cover himself up.

When he spoke, his voice was low. "Yes?"

With a grin, she gestured down between her legs. "Is this invisible to everyone else, too?"

"It is," Adrien confirmed with a laugh, eyes crinkling from how wide his smile was. "But they'd be able to feel the wetness."

She snorted. "Do I even want to know why you know that?"

"I know a lot of things that you don't," he teased, reaching out and tapping the end of her nose. "You shouldn't concern yourself with them—let's keep that nice image you have of me, yes?"

She laughed. "I'll try my best."

-x-

They didn't call their time together a date again. It was the two of them being together, as they had done in the past, with the addition of kisses and other activities.

Marinette always placed a chaste kiss to his lips before she left in the mornings, even if he was walking beside her, as she knew that she wouldn't be able to do it in public. It was sad that they couldn't go out to a restaurant or other places that normal couples would, but she wouldn't trade him for anyone else. She was happy with him inside their crappy apartment, pleased that he was choosing to stay with her when he had the chance to leave.

And when friends asked her to go out with them, she didn't feel that guilty to reject them. She knew that she could go with them if she wanted, but she preferred to spend her time inside her home, and since they didn't know any different of her, they didn't think anything of it.

To them, she was just anti-social outside of classes.

And she was fine with that.

Her long-distance boyfriend was a great excuse when they asked about her love-life. Marinette happily responded that they were saving up money to see each other if anyone ever asked for any more details, but she was a very private person. She didn't gush about him, no matter how much she felt tempted to, but she did alter some of the things that he'd said to her to match their online-relationship status at times.

Adrien couldn't eat dinner with her, but he kept her company and sat beside her at her make-shift dining table each evening. And after they'd had sex, he'd stay in the bed beside her until she'd fallen asleep—she never woke up with him beside her, but she never expected him to.

It would've been too boring for him to do that.

When she told Adrien about her plan to find them a nicer apartment after she finished university, he kissed her until she was breathless.

It shouldn't have been needed for her to say that she wanted him in her life, but the confirmation always made him so happy.

It must've been so lonely for him before she came along. The thought was one that seemed terribly egotistical, but he wasn't afraid of confirming it.

"I've never had anyone like you," he confessed, cupping her cheek and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You're special, Marinette."

The first actual fight they had was when winter break came around.

As always, Marinette had promised to go home for a week or two at most to spend time with her family. All the other times it had happened had had him sulking, ignoring her despite knowing that she needed to go, but it was the first time that he was actually visible for it.

He had a different tactic to try and get her to stay that time.

"Marinette," he called, his two fingers shallowly thrusting into her as she was draped over the arm of the sofa in the living room, her face cradled in her arms as her eyes were shut from pleasure. "You're not going to just leave me here, are you?"

He was doing it on purpose. From seeming to accept her pointing out that she had to leave in a few hours without any argument—as he had the week before when she'd reminded him about it—she should've expected that his reaction was too agreeable. So, when he'd kissed her and slipped his hands underneath her shirt to teasingly trail his thumbs over the thin material of her brassiere, she hadn't been prepared for his teasing.

She made a frustrated noise as he pushed his finger in fully for a moment before only allowing the tips to be inside her. " _Adrien_."

"Yes?" He sounded amused as he continued to tease her, the wet sounds only confirming how aroused she was. "What is it?"

"You're being mean."

Slipping in further, he curled his fingers. "Am I?"

"You—you know you are," Marinette stuttered. "I have to leave soon."

Her skirt was pushed up above her hips, her backside bare as her underwear and tights were pooling down by her feet. It left her exposed compared to his fully dressed state, but she couldn't find it in herself to care as he started to thrust his fingers inside her at a steady pace, no longer teasing.

A moan of appreciation left her, fingers curling into the cushion beneath her, and she raised her hips to try and get him to speed up.

The sound of his zip filled her with anticipation.

And yet, he continued to use his two fingers instead, the digits reaching within her at a fast pace that left her breathless, but every time she felt the pleasure she was feeling start to reach her peak, he slowed down, pulling them out and teasing her with his fingertips.

It was frustrating how he knew her tells.

"Adrien," she hissed, pushing her hips back so he'd slip within her again, though not with the part that she wanted. "You're being annoying."

He laughed. "Now who's being mean?"

"You," she insisted.

And to her shock, she lurched forward in surprise as he slapped her backside once. It wasn't hard enough to sting, but the noise seemed to echo in the room.

Her voice was high-pitched as she exclaimed, "Did you—did you just _spank_ me?"

"I'm sorry," he apologised, not at all sincere. "There was a fly. I'd never do that without asking you first."

She buried her head in her arms. "Absolutely mean."

As his fingers slipped out of her, Marinette was about to complain before she felt something else press against her. She held in her breath as his member slowly entered her, the stretch barely noticeable after all the teasing that he had done.

She breathed out audibly as he was fully within her, pressing against her backside with his hands on her hips as he waited. Marinette didn't that much time, though; she raised her hips and pushed back to indicate that she was fine, not at all embarrassed about the moan that escaped her as he pulled out.

But he stopped when it was only his tip inside her, not moving any further.

"Really?" she had to ask, exasperated.

Adrien stayed still as he requested, "Say you'll stay."

It wasn't like that usually between them. There was a mutual understanding that they'd talk about anything before they tried it, but they were usually on the same page. Marinette hadn't anticipated his sudden teasing, as it was so much more than usual, and his statement only made her realise that he really was trying to get her to stay home with him, rather than going to visit her parents.

"I can't," she murmured, truthful. "I promised."

But that wasn't enough for him. "You promised you'd do anything for you."

"And I have!" Marinette insisted, shaking her head. "But this is something I have to do—they're my parents, Adrien."

"But I can't come with you."

That had been awkward to explain. As much as she wanted him to, the childhood bedroom that she had certainly wasn't a good place to spend time with him, not when she was going to be spending time with her parents, rather than being locked away in a room with him alone. She would've spent barely any time with him as it was, and she didn't want to be overheard and questioned about it later.

She breathed out unevenly. "I'm sorry."

He nails dug into her hips. "Are you?"

"I am," she confirmed, utterly sincere. "I-I don't like leaving you either, but this isn't like with friends. I can't just cancel on my parents to spend all my time with you."

It wasn't the kind of conversation that they should've been having with him almost inside of her. It should've happened when they were talking before, but Adrien had had other plans. "What makes them better than me?"

"That's not it!" she defended, awkwardly trying to crawl forward so she could sit only, only for him to tighten his hold on her hips, keeping her in place. "Can you _not_? I want to look at you!"

Rather than listen to her, he pressed forward, pushing his member all he way inside of her as he asked, "Why are you choosing them over me?"

"Adrien!" she hissed in disapproval. "I'm not doing that! I'm—I love them, I'm not going to ignore them."

And as he pulled out slightly before rocking back into her, clearly intent on continuing what they'd started before, Adrien didn't reply verbally.

She stiffened, uncomfortable with the possessiveness that he was showing. "Stop," Marinette pleaded, quiet at first before it became apparent that he was going to pretend that he hadn't heard her. "Adrien, _stop_! I—I don't want this."

That did make him stop.

Marinette crawled forward, hastily standing up and pushing her skirt down so it covered her, anger clear on her expression as she turned to face him. She—she couldn't believe that he'd stooped to that after all their talks of consent. The light hit that he'd given her backside could've been forgiven and passed off as a joke, but his actions afterwards weren't okay.

And from the way his face crumpled, it was clear that he understood that.

Before she could talk, he covered himself, striding across the room and exiting through the front door, slamming it closed behind him.

Frustrated tears welled in her eyes.

-x-

As she needed to talk to him, Marinette called her parents and told them that she'd be arriving a day later than the original plan. It meant that she had to buy her tickets all over again, wasting the ones that had been booked for weeks, but she couldn't leave Adrien without talking to him about what had gone wrong.

Although he'd sulked about her spending time with others before, he'd never tried to manipulate her to get his way. She'd taught him that he had to share her, and for him to be jealous of her spending with her parents—of all people—wasn't a good sign.

He couldn't hide his emotions so well when she could actually see him.

Did he always feel that way when he left before? He'd understood, though, that it was the only reason why she was able to stay in the apartment during her schooling. She didn't earn enough money with her part-time job to cover the rent fully, and the fleeting time she spent with her family meant a lot to her, something he knew.

Maybe she'd done the wrong thing in narrowing down the time she'd spent with them over the years.

Adrien returned the following morning.

Marinette woke up, startled, and sat up from where she'd slept uncomfortably on the sofa. As she sleepily tried to understand what was happening as he turned on the lights, indicating that it was either really early in the morning or just a dark winter day, Adrien looked visibly nervous as he came to stand in front of her.

He was touching the nape of his neck as he started, "I'm so sorry."

She stared.

Taking that as a sign to continue, he ran the hand through his blond-coloured hair before letting it fall down to his side, tucking it into his pocket. "It wasn't right of me to do that," Adrien continued, voice quiet and ever-so-remorseful. "I... I shouldn't have taken advantage of you like that."

But that was all that he was apologising for. It wasn't trying to manipulate her about seeing her parents, no; instead, it was just the inappropriate act that he'd done at the end. Even if he'd stopped when she'd said, it was still bad that he'd continued despite her uncomfortable body language, but him recognising that was something that he'd learned from her.

She didn't know whether to feel happy or not.

Settling with crossing her arms, Marinette waited to see whether he'd add anything else on.

Realisation crossed his face. "And I apologise for trying to stop you. I was jealous."

But Adrien was learning everything from her. Maybe, she'd messed up and hadn't gotten a point across correctly before, and that was why he'd reacted the way that he had. With that in mind, she offered, "I'm disappointed, but I'll forgive you if you promise not to do it again."

A brilliant smiled appeared on his face. "Yes!" he readily replied. "I promise. There'll be no problems in the future."

Her answering smile was small. "We'll see."

Her belongings were still packed and placed by the door for when she had to leave in a few hours, but the ringing of her phone derailed that plan.

It became clear what no problems meant.

She'd been sat beside him, a blanket draped over Adrien's lap as she put her feet up on him, before she answered the call. But when she heard the contents, fully processing the words, the device had fallen to the floor and her eyes were flooded with tears as she felt like she was struggling to breathe.

It made her neighbour's child dying seem like nothing, a thought that she couldn't feel guilty about at that moment.

"My—" Marinette choked out, burying her face in her hands as her body shook with her sobs.

Adrien readily wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into an embrace.

Ignoring his cold body, she readily accepted the comfort as she cried, breaths coming out fast and unsteady as she tried to calm down enough to actually tell him what had happened. But that wasn't for a while as she sobbed, her face growing damp as her hands shook from the drop of temperature from ignoring the blanket that was still on her lap.

She couldn't believe it.

"I'm so sorry," Adrien offered softly when she told him what had happened through her hiccups. He smoothed out her hair, placing kisses to the top of her head that would've made her smile at any other time. "I'm sorry this happened to you."

Her parents were dead.

"They didn't deserve that," he whispered, the words doing nothing to comfort her.

The officer that had called her to break the news told her it was a home invasion. It had happened late at night, when they'd gone to bed, and their bedroom was the crime scene. They'd assured her that they were searching for clues to find out who had done it, but she'd been too busy trying hard not to burst into tears to fully comprehend what was being said.

"It's okay, Marinette," he soothed, holding her close. "You'll be okay."

It really didn't feel that way.

She cried until her eyes hurt. Adrien held her the whole time, whispering comforting words beneath his breath and doing the things that would've usually made her feel cherished, but all it did was make her feel worse because her parents were _gone_. They wouldn't be able to tell her about their days, to gush about their wedding anniversary, and she'd never hear their stories about growing up again.

"I'm here," he whispered, wiping the tears away with his hand. "I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'll always be with you."

It really didn't make her feel better.

He reached out and passed her another tissue. "It's just me and you now, okay?" Adrien murmured, pushing her hair out of her face. "I'll be right here with you."

"They—" Marinette started before giving up, her breaths too erratic as she sobbed.

"We'll get a good alarm system, okay?" he assured her, pressing a kiss to her temple. "What happened to them won't happen to you—I'll make sure it works."

It was a passing comment, one of the many that he'd uttered, but when she was curled up in her bed later that night—having deemed herself too emotional to make the journey that day—she stared up at the ceiling with it replaying in her head.

She hadn't said anything about the alarm system to him.

She blinked rapidly.

The alarm system hadn't been working—the officer had confirmed that it on the phone—but she hadn't relayed that information to him. Adrien had been close to her, yes, but he couldn't have heard what was being said on the phone.

Her volume wasn't loud enough for that, and she'd sat up to take the call.

An uncomfortable feeling became known in her stomach. As her mouth grew terribly dry, protesting to her thoughts, she really didn't want to have the doubts that she was having. But Adrien—Adrien shouldn't have _known_.

He didn't have hearing any better than hers.

He was her best friend and more. She was in love with him, and yet, the awful thoughts were spiralling in her mind, the budding negativity causing her to feel nauseated as she rolled over, trying to calm her stomach.

"He wouldn't," she whispered, the silence in the room stifling.

But his comforting words were incriminating when she thought about them the right way. Even from when he'd come through the front door early that morning—long enough to have made the journey to visit her parents the night before and made it back to greet her—he'd assured her that he wouldn't have any problems with her visiting them in the future.

She promptly emptied the pitiful contents of her stomach onto the floor.

And when Adrien knocked on the door, asking her if she was okay, her voice cracked as she replied, "I'm _fine_!"

Her heart was hammering in her chest, making her feel dizzy as she got to her feet, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.

Was that why he wouldn't have problems—because they'd be gone? Marinette knew that he was possessive, but she'd hoped that he'd grow out of it, that she'd be able to teach him to think healthily instead.

It was her fault that they'd died, wasn't it?

She gagged, bile burning her throat as she spat onto her carpet without a care. It wasn't as though she could do any worse than the bloodstain—

Adrien had said that he hadn't killed her, but not that he hadn't had anything to do with it.

"This is stupid," she hissed, shaking her head hard enough to make her vision become blurry.

She couldn't start jumping to conclusions, thinking the worst of him just because he misspoke. Adrien would _never_ hurt someone—

But he'd tormented her, hadn't he?

She squeezed her eyes shut. "Stop."

The way she'd wanted to see the best of him had ruined her, truly. It had caused the worst things to happen—Adrien was definitely capable of what she was thinking of, but she didn't want him to be.

She'd tried to mould him into what she wanted, ignoring what he was already, hadn't she? It wasn't a healthy way to live, and she'd been too blind to realise that she was being oblivious.

Marinette choked out a sob.

The first time he'd been within reach to harm something—someone—that he had to share her with, it had ended with a death. Adrien had said that he wasn't strong enough when their kitten had died, but he hadn't explained further than that. It could've had more than one meaning, but she'd latched onto the most plausible one, believing that he could do no wrong.

But he could've been the cause of that, couldn't he?

She retched, nothing coming out from her stomach, but the uncomfortable feeling of gagging was still there. Her throat burned, her stomach churning in protest, and her eyes felt so utterly sore as she hastily wiped her mouth again.

There was so many things he could've done and she'd promptly ignored. She'd wanted to see the positive of living with him when they were stuck together, not wanting him to feel alone or deserted; she'd sacrificed deepening friendships to make him happy, ignored potential dates, and lessened time with her parents to spend it all with him.

She'd given him _everything_.

The joke about the virgin sacrifice loophole could've not been a jest; maybe it was true, something that he hadn't considered before—

There was nothing left in her stomach to vomit.

Pulling her knees up to her chest, she sobbed, whole body shaking from the feeling of terror that was running through her.

Saying that she felt betrayed would be lessening it.

Marinette had given years of her life to him— _everything_ to him—all of it to make him happy. She had never thought ill of him after they'd became friends, and other than the slight mistakes that he'd made, he'd never outright done anything horrendous in front of her.

She really didn't want to think that he had anything to do with the death of her neighbour's child, but he'd been so happy that day, and he'd never told her way.

Although she'd thought he was home all day, but he could've left without her realising it while she was at her classes.

It could've brought him up to four murders if it was true.

It was so much more than ignoring her when she didn't have to continue having sex. There was no amount of words to describe the mistakes that he'd made—if they could be classed as that—and because of her, he was able to freely leave her home and roam as he wanted.

There was no limits to what he could do due to her stupidity, was there?

As she stood up on shaky legs, she stomach lurched as she realised that he'd never explicitly stated that he was a ghost.

He could've been anything.

Taking off her pyjamas, she pulled on the nearest clothing that she could find, continuing on the surge of adrenaline that ran through her. She didn't want to lose the nerve and stop what she was planning, not when her thoughts were still entered on what he'd done.

Marinette almost threw up when she opened her bedroom door and saw him sat up on the sofa, frowning as he stared down at the laptop.

"I'm—" Marinette started, averting her gaze as she walked across the room, going straight for her shoes. "I'm going for a walk."

It was amazing how little her voice had cracked.

"Do you want me to come with you?" The softness in his voice made her flinch, but he didn't seem to notice.

"No," she answered sharply. Then, when she realised how she'd snapped, she struggled and amended herself with, "I-I want to be alone right now."

She couldn't look at him.

Adrien didn't protest to her movements, but she didn't look behind her to check that he wasn't following until she was greeted by the cold air outside of her apartment building. She shivered, reminded immediately that she'd forgotten to put on a coat, but she wasn't going to turn around and face him, not when her heart was beating erratically and seemingly cheering on her terrible decisions.

Her legs hurt by the time she made it to her destination.

Her eyes were red from crying, lips cold, her cheek and nose definitely reddened and showing how ill prepared she was for the weather, but she didn't care as she walked closer to the edge of the bridge that was closest to where she lived.

It hadn't seemed important after she'd tethered him to her but she remembered how Adrien had gotten stuck in the apartment in the first place.

Her hands were shaking as she climbed over the barrier, holding on tightly as she settled her feet down on the other side. It was late enough that there was only a small amount of cars on the road, the ones that passed her barely paying attention.

With her vision blurry from tears, she stared down at the water below. It wasn't frozen, but the temperature was close.

She could see her breath.

There was no one calling her name. Adrien wasn't able to knock on her door to ask if she was okay, and if the freezing weather was anything to go by, he wouldn't be able to do that to anyone in the future.

With a numb hand, she wiped away her tears, taking in a deep breath as she worked up the courage to do what she'd set out to do.

If she was correct, Adrien wouldn't have the strength to seriously hurt anyone in a river.

Her teeth chattered.

The cold wind slapped against her cheeks as she jumped, not enough time to scream before freezing cold water was assaulting her, flooding her nose and getting stuck in her throat, choking her as she tried to breathe on reflex.

Her movements grew sluggish as she helplessly struggled, fighting against the inevitable, but her shouts came out as bubbles in the cold river, her protests muffled as she desperately tried to get the oxygen she needed, only to inhale more water.

Her vision grew dark, throat and lungs burning in protest to what was happening, and she couldn't make out any of the noises around her from the sudden shock that she was feeling.

Her struggles abruptly ended.


End file.
